


Scarecrow Ascendant

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [18]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: This one of course needed more work than some. It should have had more to it. I remember not really knowing why Lwaxana would object, and being stuck. The reboot gives me a little more to work with.Lwaxana comes along for a diplomatic mission that promptly goes off the rails. Meanwhile, she has an unexpected reaction to finding out that her daughter is engaged to yet another Starfleet officer. And her son isn't quite what she expected either.DS9 episode: The Muse came about after I wrote the original. Lwaxana married a Tavnian without getting to know him fully, and then had to divorce him because - of course - she can't tolerate his taking the baby away per his custom. By the time of this story he would be three-four years old. Frankly, it was a pretty stupid episode, but it is there, and can be retconned. This may not completely agree with the dialogue in the episode.





	1. Chapter 1

Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this lonely field."  
And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it."  
Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have known that joy."  
Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it."  
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.  
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.  
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

 

~~ Excerpt from The Madman by Kahlil Gibran

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Counselor!"

Natalia ran forward, and the familiar head of dark curls turned, revealing the familiar warm smile. "Hello, Natalia. How are you?"

"I'm doing fine -- I was wondering, d'you think I could -- I mean -- "

Deanna Troi waited patiently for her to stop sputtering. Natalia stared past her, trying to breathe. The counselor didn't make her nervous, but the captain had come out of the lift at the end of the corridor and distracted her.

"I was hoping I could make an appointment with you this afternoon, if you have an opening," she managed. She looked in Deanna's deep dark eyes -- Betazoids had such beautiful eyes, so expressive.

"Is something wrong? We do have an appointment tomorrow."

"I just wanted to talk to you about something else -- career counseling, I guess you could call it. I thought you would know all the options just as well as anyone, and -- hello, sir."

Picard had stopped at Deanna's shoulder. Everyone knew they were a couple; even if they had tried to hide it, the signs would still have been there. They were so comfortable with each other.

"Hello, Ensign," Picard said, smiling. 

"Natalia is interested in career counseling," Deanna told him, turning her head to look slightly back over her shoulder at him.

"I thought Geordi was your current department head -- though I suppose she does take turns at the helm," the captain said, managing to talk to both of them at the same time.

"I just feel more comfortable talking to you, Counselor. And I guess I just need to talk things out, more than I need advice."

Deanna opened her mouth, but the captain said, "We were just heading to the lounge for lunch. Why don't you join us, Ensign?"

Natalia tried to swallow the enthusiasm before she spoke. "I'd like that, sir, thank you."

She followed them to the lift, watching them talk without speaking -- no other way to account for the vibes between them. The counselor shot him a glance initially, plainly asking why he had extended the invitation. Not in an angry way, just a puzzled, somewhat -- proud? way. And his invitation -- they hadn't been on their way to lunch. She had been coming down a corridor from her office, and he'd appeared to be on his way in the opposite direction. Or maybe they were meeting halfway? But why not meet in the lounge?

"What sort of career questions did you have?" the captain asked while the lift carried them toward deck ten.

"Just that I'm not certain I'm in the right place. The longer I'm on the _Enterprise_ the more I learn, and the more I enjoy it -- but I'm having a. . . problem. No -- a difficulty? I'm just not comfortable in engineering," she blurted. "I keep trying, and they just don't like me for some reason. I can't tell if it's just me, or what I do, or how I do it."

"What makes you think they don't like you?" Deanna asked.

"When I'm on duty they don't talk to me. I walk in and things go quiet, even if they're laughing and talking when I get there. I feel so invisible. It makes it worse when we talk in the line of duty -- they keep things so formal and stiff, and it's like they're intentionally being that way, more than they would be." She gathered her wits for a few seconds. "I'm wondering if maybe they think I'm incompetent or something."

Deanna empathized with her completely; she always did, and it showed in her eyes. And though the captain didn't show it, Natalia thought he might be doing it, too, at least a little. "Has it always been this way, or has this been a recent development?" he asked.

They left the lift, and Natalia walked beside them, hands behind her back. "It started right about the time I started gamma shift helm. A week or two after, I think. I've never really gotten to know anyone in there well, but they were at least friendly, most of the time. And it's gotten slowly worse, too."

They entered the lounge. Natalia noticed a bunch of the problems from engineering in a corner. The stares she got made her angry. Deanna took the lead, weaving through the tables, and Natalia fell in behind the captain. They went to the replicators in the corner for their own food; in peak hours, that was necessary. She usually ate down in one of the mess halls on a lower deck. The lounge had much better ambiance, and consequently stayed packed around mealtimes.

Deanna chose a table near a window, sitting with her back to the stars. The captain sat across from Natalia and snapped his napkin open, dropped it in his lap, then picked up his fork. "Do you suppose the helm assignment might be making them jealous of you?"

"Some of the others have had assignments elsewhere. Batris does a turn at the helm every so often on beta shift."

"Are those some of them, in the corner behind you?" Deanna asked.

"Yep. Most of them. They stared at me when I came in."

"Why, do you think?" She looked pointedly at the captain and back at Natalia.

"Oh. Well -- if that's all it is, I can live with it. I just don't want them to be pointing fingers at me and saying I'm no good in engineering." She dumped the little dish of oyster crackers into her bowl and took up a spoonful of soup, and hesitated when the captain started laughing quietly. "Sir?"

"Nothing, Ensign. As you were." He took a bite of his salad and exchanged glances with the counselor.

"He's not used to ensigns who aren't intimidated by him," Deanna said. Her smile said she was teasing him; she had a gentle way of doing that with anyone, Natalia had noticed. And the captain seemed to enjoy the tease just as much as she did, though he scowled at it out of general principle.

"Where did you start out on your first ship, Captain? At the helm? Security?" Natalia asked. She didn't expect the startled look. He sat up a little and let his fork drop slightly. Then he looked at Deanna as if chiding her about it.

"I can't remember exactly. Has it been that long?"

"Like I would know," she chided. "I'm sure it will come back to you. Probably when you're not trying to remember it. Maybe if you thought about the Academy and worked forward?"

"So where are you from, Ensign?"

Natalia chewed her lip and tried not to laugh at the obvious evasion. "Fleet housing in San Francisco. We moved to a public suburb when I was older."

He and Deanna asked more questions, and Natalia talked about her family and the Academy, forgetting about the pips on their collars. They asked about her ambitions and even talked a little about their own, but not a lot. The captain finally remembered what he'd briefly forgotten and brought it back into the discussion, to her surprise -- she'd thought he might be simply dodging the question.

They finished lunch and began to rise. Suddenly the captain and counselor were back in full force -- just a straightening of the shoulders, a distancing of the eyes, and they were off. Natalia followed along to put the empty dishes where they belonged.

They hesitated outside the door in the corridor. The captain's cool expression warmed slightly with the addition of a faint smile. "Ensign, one more thing -- perhaps the next time you feel a little insecure about your performance, you should remember that the only opinion that really matters is your commanding officer's? Neither Mr. LaForge nor Mr. Carlisle have had anything negative to say about you. I think you're doing quite well."

"Thank you, sir, and thanks for being kind enough to invite me -- I enjoyed our conversation. Even if you made me do all the talking."

He blinked, then a more genuine smile broke through the formality. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've gotten tired of hearing my own history over and over."

"I know what you mean. I've repeated mine a few hundred times in the last month alone. There are so many people on board -- I just wish I'd get a second chance with some of them."

Deanna knew all about that; it was a major part of their sessions. Her eyes mirrored Natalia's pain at the confession. The loneliness rose too quickly and too strong. Natalia swallowed, managed a wavering smile, and said good-bye. Her feet carried her as far as the first corner before she realized she'd just raced off without being dismissed. Whirling, she looked back in horror, but they were gone.

In the distance, she heard the captain's unmistakable laughter. Natalia grinned and headed for the lift. She rode to engineering with a light heart, until she stepped off and it hit her -- she'd just eaten lunch with the captain. In full view of the rest of the low-rankers in her department.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched into main engineering. Who gave a flying fart what they thought? As long as the captain thought she was doing well, the rest of them could go eat worms.

 

* * *

 

 

The lift opened on deck eight. Jean-Luc felt the eyes of the lieutenant they left inside on the back of his uniform and ignored it. His own eyes fell on Deanna as she led the way down the corridor.

"Ambassador Telor'set would like us to keep security to a minimum," she said over her shoulder. It startled him from his observation of her tangible assets. "It would make the Adnalons nervous to have so many weapons present."

"It makes me nervous knowing they've just finished their own civil war," he replied, stopping just inside the door. "I can't help but wonder if the Federation isn't pushing this too fast, simply because of the Adnalons' relative peace with the Romulans and their proximity to the Empire. The fighting on Adnalon may be over, but the hostilities may still be present among certain segments of the population, and if there's a chance -- "

Deanna had turned to look at him, and quite unexpectedly her smile caught him right in the heart. She tilted her head, knowing perfectly well what he'd just felt. "Captain?"

"You're killing me. You know that, don't you? I'm going to be the first starship captain to die of a constant state of arousal."

She frowned a little. "What's got into you? Jean, you're supposed to be on duty. You've been doing this all morning."

He sighed and rubbed his neck. "You're neglecting me again, that's all."

"You fell asleep, Jean-Fish. And as amusing as you can be in that state, you aren't much fun as a sex toy."

He'd long since become accustomed to her teasing, always backed by such obvious affection that he couldn't possibly take offense -- and becoming her sex toy had been one of his wiser choices. "You could have gotten me to wake up with minimal effort. You're good at it, actually."

"Not when you need the sleep." She raised an eyebrow. "You're not supposed to be doing this when you're ostensibly on duty, either, so think of something else. Cold showers, Romulan battles, whatever it takes."

"Do you think I haven't tried? What good am I going to be if all I do on duty is leer at the counselor? Damn it, Dee, I have self-control, but there are limits."

Even he heard the ragged edge in his voice. Her amusement faded; she hummed, touched his face, and looked him in the eye with earnest concern. "Jean, do you hear what you're saying?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Shaking his head, he laughed dryly. "I sound like a pouting tyrant, don't I? You'd think I was a teenager. I honestly don't know what's got into me today. Forget it, I'm sorry. I'll just go to my ready room and sit with a lapful of ice cubes for a while." He turned to leave, his forward motion arrested by a tug on his waistband.

"Maybe you ought to sit here with a lapful of ice cubes first."

He glared at her. "Don't tease me unless you're planning on doing something about it."

Dragging him by the front of his jacket, she backed him up against the desk and removed his communicator, putting it with hers at arm's length. She ordered the computer to secure the door calmly as she worked on unfastening his pants. "I'm only doing this to keep you from jabbing someone in the back in the lift, so don't get your hopes up for a repeat performance," she said, dropping to her knees.

His hands went white-knuckled on the edge of the desk with the first tight, wet suck. Her tongue moved down the underside, followed by her mouth as she pulled more of him in and proceeded to give him firm, unwavering pressure, her hands stroking his inner thighs. As aroused as he already was, it didn't take long. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his pleasure, some of it mirrored on her face; it only made it more pleasurable, seeing her enjoy it so. The urge arose to see her body, to bury himself in her and do all the things that would make her laugh, moan, or writhe in his arms, but he tightened his grip on the desk and surrendered, leaning backward slightly and gasping. He cried out softly when he came; she held on to the backs of his thighs and rode with it, letting him come to a panting stop.

She put him back together again while his breathing slowed, then stepped close, putting her arms around him. This would be why she'd removed communicators -- she liked being held tightly, after. He kissed her neck and did so, trying not to muss her any more than necessary. He wished it could have been more than relief. Another hunger, nearly the equal of the one she'd just dealt with, sprang up -- the heart fire raged through his body, and all he wanted to do now, for as long as possible, was to hold her close this way. He knew she felt it too. Her arms tightened, and she kissed the soft spot just beneath his left ear.

Her hair smelled like spring rain on roses. When she moved, he loosened his hold on her and said, "Thank you. I'll make it up to you, cygne."

"Honestly, the lengths you go to just for a blow job." She laughed silently, the tickling in his chest proving it, and stepped back. The fire died away slowly, the last flickers glowing in her dark eyes when she looked at him. The consolation at this point was that it would always return, always be as strong -- even so, he disliked the abruptness. Affixing his communicator in its proper place, she studied him critically and straightened his uniform. "I don't know what's gotten you this tense all of a sudden. How did you ever manage without me?"

"Not nearly well enough."

"Off with you. I'm going to fix my makeup." She reclaimed her communicator and headed for the bedroom. His comm badge chirped -- good timing for once in his life, he thought happily.

"Bridge to captain."

"Picard here, what is it, Data?"

"Sir, the _Tenebra_ has just come within transporter range, a day ahead of schedule. The ambassador is ready to beam aboard." So much for timing.

"I'll be in transporter room two in five minutes. Picard out." He waited, reluctant to leave without Deanna, and she looked askance at him when she came out with a fresh coat of lipstick. Which distracted him briefly in thinking about where she'd left the last application, but there were other problems afoot. "The other ambassador is about to come aboard. I thought you'd like to meet her with me?"

Deanna slumped a little. "We may as well get it over with, I suppose. Remember, she's going to know we're _hajira_ the instant she sees us."

"I realize. As you say, may as well get it over with."

They rode the lift down to deck nine, and entered the transporter room in just under three minutes. The lieutenant at the controls was a familiar face, Chief deOrda, another L'norim crew member. Jean-Luc watched Deanna fidget a little, as he gave the order.

The familiar shapes of Lwaxana and Mr. Homn appeared, along with her luggage. Another visit, another shimmering exotic dress for Lwaxana, this time a teal with a long over-the-shoulder train that floated behind her. At her side was a young child. Jean-Luc stared at it -- he couldn't tell its gender, but it had sparse black hair, grayish skin, and an interesting nose -- a long, narrow ridge. Then he remembered 

"Oh, Little One!" She hurried forward, and Deanna went around the console to meet her. "It's so good to see you again! Barin was tiny when you last saw him, come say hello."

Mother and daughter embraced, and then Deanna looked down at the child still standing on the transporter pad. "Hello, Barin. How are you?"

The child simply stared up at her and said nothing. Lwaxana reached out a hand. "Come on, dear, let's come over here and say hello to Captain Picard."

Then he remembered -- Deanna had mentioned her mother's pregnancy four years ago. At the time he'd logged it as a shocking but perhaps not surprising incident, given Lwaxana's constant search for a husband. Finding a husband and having children would be the logical end product of searching for one. He'd sympathized with Deanna's ire, then he'd promptly set it aside and gone on with life. 

He turned to the transporter chief and quietly dismissed him, and deOrda went out the door. Lwaxana completed the short journey to him, the toddler in tow, looked Jean-Luc in the eyes, then stood back and stared at Deanna. Her eyes went wide. Jean-Luc gripped the leading edge of the transporter console and stiffened, raising his head slightly. Obviously, she'd seen the telltale signs, whatever they were, of _hajira_. It was almost disturbing that it was so easy for Betazoids to detect. 

"Mother," Deanna said wearily. Reacting to the change in her mother's mood with distress only brought him more tension.

"Captain," Lwaxana said, her flat tone making him glad he'd sent the lieutenant off. This sounded dangerous, and the smaller the audience, the better. She looked at Deanna again. Then she smiled, turned to the boy as if finally remembering he was still there, waved in Jean-Luc's direction, and said, "Dear, this is Captain Picard."

Barin gazed at him without any sign of emotion.

"Hello," Jean-Luc said, tentatively, trying to smile at the child. 

"I'll have Mr. Homn take him to my quarters," she said, sounding perfectly reasonable. "Barin, I'll be there in a minute -- I have something to talk to the captain about."

Homn picked up the large case and stepped down from the transporter pad, and leaned over to scoop up the boy. Barin settled in the servant's arm as if he was there often, and Homn left the transporter room with him. Lwaxana waved her fingers at him, smiling fondly, and then the door was closed. She turned back to Deanna with an unexpected wide-eyed look of anguish.

"Oh,  _why_ do you persist in finding officers? They're so obsessed with their duties," she half-moaned. "You already went through this. They always leave."

"Lwaxana," Jean-Luc exclaimed, trying not to sound belligerent. It still came out too harshly. "I'm not going to leave her."

"I'm sorry, you're a very dear man and it's quite plain to see what's happened -- _hajira_ is something rare and beautiful, and I can see why you would love Deanna -- who wouldn't? But she needs -- "

"Mother, why do I have to accept every man you decide to marry but you can't accept my choice?" Deanna was reaching the end of her patience, sounding angry rather than distressed.

"You're a daughter of the Fifth House, and there are responsibilities -- "

"I know! You tell me about them all the time. I'm perfectly aware of them, thank you," Deanna exclaimed.

Lwaxana hesitated, studying her daughter anew. She glanced at Jean-Luc. "You, of all people."

He gave her a subdued smile. "Of all people."

Deanna came to him, stood at his side, took his arm, and the two Daughters of the Fifth House stared at each other. He had the impression there was a silent telepathic war raging right in front of him. It erupted into speech within minutes.

"Mother, this isn't just another fling. He's asked me to marry him."

"But what happened to Mr. Woof?"

Deanna made a frustrated noise and tossed her head. "What's wrong? I thought you'd come off the transporter and embarrass both of us with how happy you are that I'm finally getting married."

"But  _him!_ Why, why does -- oh," Lwaxana put her hands up dramatically, shaking her head. "This is so disappointing!"

Deanna looked at Jean-Luc, just as beseeching -- what he could do, he had no idea. Then his eyes met Deanna's, and her pain was obvious to him.

"Ambassador," he said, keeping his composure. "I will show you to your quarters. Deanna has duties to attend to, and she'll -- "

"You see how he is. Always keeping his feelings on the inside, never letting them show -- what kind of husband would he make?"

Jean-Luc kept the faint diplomatic smile in place, firmly. Luckily he had prepared himself for the worst, and though rejection hadn't been the top contender in the list of possible reactions, he'd thought of it, too. "You won't even give me a chance, will you? I'd think that as long as we've known each other, you'd give me that."

Lwaxana measured him with a sobriety he'd rarely seen. The unexpected skepticism remained. "For as long as we've known each other, you haven't taken me seriously."

"I've taken you very seriously, Ambassador. I realize that what's developed between your daughter and I is probably just as surprising to you as it's been to me, but it's not temporary. If you can't accept that there's not much I can do about it. I won't let it affect my relationship with Deanna, however."

Lwaxana inclined her head slightly. She looked older, he realized -- more lines in her face, and a tiredness she hadn't had before. "You're a very determined man. I can respect that. But you're making a mistake in underestimating me, Jean-Luc Picard."

"Mother, the only mistake here is yours. Stop treating me like I can't make my own decisions. Tell me why you're so against this and get it over with," Deanna exclaimed.

"I simply believe you should marry someone more your type -- someone who could give you a home, and children."

"As if that isn't possible -- how would you possibly know that I couldn't, or wouldn't?" Jean-Luc snapped. "I have every intention of giving her what she wants."

The confession brought both sets of black eyes around with a snap. Deanna seemed to almost be afloat, beaming at him. Her joy, rendered palpable by eye contact and the warmth of her hand in his, caught him up and filled his chest until he could barely breathe. It countered the moment of shock as he recognized how surprised she was, that he might want to do that.

"Every intention," Lwaxana exclaimed, crossing her arms. "I've heard some pretty good intentions before."

"What are you trying to say?" It came out with less force than it might have, thanks to Deanna's happiness. If he'd known the promise of children would do this to her -- had she really thought he wouldn't want any?

Lwaxana's insistence didn't waver. "She's my daughter. My Little One -- you don't know how I've worried, having her traipsing around the galaxy on this ship of yours. You get into so much trouble, and now you want to be sure you keep her here."

Jean-Luc took one step before Deanna, clinging to his arm, stopped him. Lwaxana took a step backward, eyes opening wider, and one of her hands fluttered to her chest. He swallowed rage and managed calm, rational sentences. "I have no intention of depriving her of her career, or of anything else she wants. She is with me by her choice. I'd think you would at least try to accept that for her sake."

She backed another step and studied him skeptically. Sighing, she cast a forbearing smile Deanna's way. "I suppose you could do worse."

"Oh, thank you," Deanna said acerbically. "We'll talk again later, once you're settled in." 

Lwaxana stared at her daughter as if this was a completely unexpected development. Jean-Luc hadn't heard that tone of dismissal from Deanna before, and he wondered what had pushed her to it -- there had obviously been a telepathic exchange that he wasn't privy to, and what had been said aloud was no more condescending or flippant than anything else he'd ever heard from Lwaxana. He opted for diplomatic. "We'll show you to your quarters."

"Oh, I'm certain I can find my way," she said, turning and marching out.

Jean-Luc sighed after the door closed, and looked at Deanna, who was still furious. "Are you all right?"

"Angry, because clearly I can't do anything right -- I cancelled appointments in anticipation of spending time with her, and now I don't want to have anything to do with her! I'm not going to tell you what she didn't say out loud!"

"Let's go, then. Perhaps you should meditate?"

"I think I need to work off some of the anger first. I'm going to run on the track."

"Then I will go to the weight room. I need to get back on schedule anyway."

 

* * *

  

Natalia finished her half-shift in engineering without difficulty, though the others still gave her the cold shoulder. With several hours to kill before beta shift, she went to the quarters she shared with Kasey Benbo, changed into loose-fitting sweats, and headed for the gym as she usually did when she worked split-shifts.

Working out always gave her the release she needed from the stress of always being on the outs with other people. Since group sports were usually impossible, thanks to her few friends being occupied elsewhere, she had taken up running and weight-lifting, the latter out of conscious emulation. If it worked for the captain, why not? And the weight training seemed to be having a visible effect. Already her arms seemed less puny, and it gave her an overall feeling of being fit. Endorphins, Dr. Mengis had said -- physical exertion facilitated the release of certain chemicals in the body which led to a healthier physical and mental state overall.

She stretched thoroughly and ran first, for the cardio portion of her workout and to loosen up. The track had a lot of people on it; she went at her own pace, letting the others race along haphazardly. Her regimen had been carefully planned out with the doctor, unlike some of the others, who seemed more intent on playing games than pursuing serious fitness.

The weight room always seemed to be empty when she got there. She knew there were usually people in during the day, and more came later in the evening, but there seemed to be a gap right about the same time, every time. Handy for her. The girls seemed less likely to weight train than the guys, and she hated some of the comments the men made.

"Ensign Billings, please report to the equipment desk in the athletics center," came a quiet page out of thin air. Natalia wrinkled her brow -- that Billings person always seemed to be losing his or her communicator. Of course, people tended to take them off in the gym, so she supposed it was possible.

She finished programming the weight machine she frequented and looked up casually -- and the captain walked in. He often did while she was there; he probably disliked a crowd while working out as much as she did. This was one of the few places she crossed paths with him regularly, and usually he came and worked without much more than a glance and slight smile in acknowledgment of her presence. He nodded, she nodded, and he settled on his usual machine, six down from hers.

She realized she'd forgotten to pick up a towel from the replicator down the hall and knew she'd need it, so she jogged out to get it. A small group of people stood in the hall outside the weight room. She ignored them until, on the return from the replicator with her towel, she noticed them staring at her and turning away quickly. Walking casually into the weight room, she waited, then leaned, peering around the edge of the door. The group seemed to be all female, all dressed out for aerobics -- the next class wasn't for another hour. They were looking through the long window, peering between the slatted blinds, which Natalia realized had been very carefully angled to conceal the fact that people stood outside. As long as they didn't move around too much, they could stand there undetected as long as they wanted. And if they were caught, well, easy to look like just a gaggle of aerobics participants waiting around.

Natalia thought it through. Funny how Ensign Billings always got a page right before the captain showed up, wasn't it? Options. She could tell the captain and have the satisfaction of watching him blister their ears, or at least deliver the Glare of Death, but then she'd be more of a pariah than she already was. She could bust up the ring herself with the threat of reporting it. But there wasn't anything wrong with loitering in a gym corridor, and they could always deny it. No good options. This required further consideration.

She glanced at the captain and an idea began to form. Returning to her machine and punching a few buttons, she muttered, "Damn thing." Picking up her towel again, she moved down a few machines closer to the captain, who had already worked up a decent sweat and paid her no attention. She began her own routine -- shorter and less strenuous than his, but the delay in starting and her effort to pace herself with his familiar routine made them finish at about the same time.

He glanced at her as both of them stood and mopped their faces. "You know, you could be a little less obvious about trying to get my attention," he said. It was nearly a perfect deadpan, but he was letting a small smile give away the game.

"Sure, I could hide out in the hall and peek through the blinds." She grinned. "Teasing me won't work, sir. I know better than to be a brown-noser."

It made him guffaw and shake his head. "I haven't done my job properly. You're supposed to be quaking in your boots, you know."

"But Daddy told me once that good captains don't show fear in the face of danger. I'm supposed to be one someday. Might as well get a head start. Also, my boots are too tight." She gave him a lopsided grin.

He gripped the ends of the towel around his neck and thought for a minute. "Natalia, it seems to me that too many times cadets see the stereotype of a good captain as something to work towards. I think that's an error -- you don't become a good captain by trying to force a particular sort of demeanor. You become a good captain by learning the rules well enough to know when you can justifiably break them. And by working to maintain a balance between friendship and professionalism -- being too familiar with other officers can be detrimental, but not being familiar enough with them is also a mistake. Don't think you have to build walls between yourself and your fellow ensigns, whether they're pursuing command or not."

Pausing in the act of wiping her neck, Natalia stared at him, almost dropping her towel. "I'm not trying to build walls -- just the opposite."

"Trying too hard can be just as bad as not trying enough." He smiled sadly, as if remembering something he regretted. "Don't you find it odd that, of all the people on this ship, you feel most comfortable with the two high-ranking loners?"

"Who?"

"You enjoy talking to Counselor Troi. You seem to have no trouble talking to me. You complain of having no one else on the ship to talk to."

"But. . . Counselor Troi isn't a loner."

"You're letting yourself be distracted by minutiae, Natalia."

Natalia laughed -- she couldn't help it. "You sound just like the counselor."

"Probably osmosis -- I spent enough time in her office over the years. Think about it, Ms. Greenman."

He started for the door, and she matched his pace. "You really think I'm trying too hard, and that's all the problem is?"

"Just a suggestion. I couldn't say. I've never been around to -- "

They came into the hall as the group of women broke up and flowed around them, most of them chatting a little too loudly about frivolous things. The captain hesitated, then shook his head and turned left toward the front of the complex. Natalia slowed and stared at the blinds, through which most of the weight room was visible.

"Ensign?"

She turned to him, keeping her expression neutral. "Sir?"

"What was that group in here for? The aerobics rooms are on the other side of the complex, and this is the long way around." He stared at the blinds and sounded wary and slightly angry.

"And the next class isn't for another half hour or so, I think." Natalia smiled at him. "You might want to add closing the blinds to your routine, sir."

He looked perilously close to swearing. Then he sighed and smiled ruefully. "Should I be flattered or annoyed?"

"Computer, location of Ensign Billings," Natalia said.

"There is no Ensign Billings on board the _Enterprise_."

Natalia giggled. "Be flattered, sir."

"Who the hell is Ensign Billings?" he exclaimed as they strode out of the hall into the main foyer of the complex. Natalia hesitated and glanced across at the person at the equipment desk.

"Hey, Rhonda -- just a word to the wise? Ensign Billings died in the line of duty. Stop paging him."

Rhonda went a little pale, her eyes sliding to the captain, and turned away to busy herself with some parisis squares equipment. They walked past, out of the broad double doors into the corridor, and Natalia grinned at the captain. "Don't worry, I don't think you'll have any more onlookers. I wondered why Billings kept getting paged to the equipment desk every time you showed up."

The captain stopped walking and appraised her for a long moment, then gave the thin-lipped smile he used whenever he didn't want to reveal much. "Thank you, Ensign Greenman. Have a good evening. And. . . if you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to anyone."

"Who would I tell? I'm the friendless one, remember?"

He sniffed. "Not entirely, Ensign."

She watched him walk away down the corridor, then went back into the gym complex to take a shower, smiling.

 

* * *

 

Jean-Luc returned from the bridge, sat down at his desk in his quarters, and checked messages. Deanna caught him at it, coming out of the bedroom in her pink robe and stepping up behind him to massage his shoulders. He turned off the console without listening to any of them and bowed his head. After the catastrophic dinner with the least diplomatic member of the Diplomatic Corps, he wanted to do something other than think.

"Don't stop on my account," she said, pushing her thumbs under his shoulder blades. "Do you want me to leave?"

"None of them are really important. Tomorrow's soon enough. Between the war of the ambassadors over dinner and Ensign Billings, I'm too tired to think about anything anyway." The other ambassador had come to the captain's private dining room and shortly after the introductions, Lwaxana had taken exception to Telor'set and the two had bickered like children throughout despite his better efforts to deflect them into a more functional conversation about the mission at hand.

"My mother isn't sure whether she can have fun with you or not, so she had to find some other outlet. Who's Ensign Billings?"

He snorted and put his face in his hands. "I don't know whether to tell you or not. You'll just laugh at me."

"I don't laugh at you, Jean-Fish. I laugh with you. Let me guess -- an admirer in the gym?"

"Much worse than that. A code word. And you are laughing at me -- you already knew, didn't you?"

"I heard the page a few times, over the past couple of months, but I was never sufficiently intrigued to investigate. You need more than a shoulder rub. Take off the uniform, please."

He followed her into the bedroom, stripping as he went, and she disappeared briefly into the bathroom. She returned with a bottle and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm beginning to think you need to visit sickbay."

"Sorry."

"I'm starting to be concerned, it's not usual for you to have that issue." She climbed on the bed when he'd done as she asked. "Arms at your sides. This won't hurt, much. Though I think I could find more pliable bulkheads."

The oil seemed to burn his skin in a line down his back. "What are you putting on me?"

"It'll help. Give it a chance. Did dinner really stress you that much? You did work out today, didn't you?"

"Being confronted by a bunch of onlookers in the gym was a little unsettling, and it won't help the mission to have our own ambassadors at each other's throats. I'm sorry, Dee, but your mother is determined to drive me mad, one way or the other."

"Stop it. I shouldn't have said anything. Just relax," she murmured, moving her hands up and down his back slowly. "Focus on your breathing. Computer, play Saint-Saens symphony number three in C minor, low volume."

"Where did you learn so much about music?" The trickle of horns, woodwinds and strings began slowly and picked up tempo as the melody evolved. "Every time I turn around you've come up with something different."

"Old cliche -- music soothes the savage beast. It can be good therapy." The heels of her hands seemed to be making headway in coaxing tension out of his back.

"You are good therapy," he rumbled.

She made her way down his spine and continued down his legs, where he hadn't realized any tension resided, yet she found it in his calves. Her fingers seemed to know where the pressure points in his feet were. She moved around the bed, crawled up on her knees, and worked quietly down his other leg. Her fingers burned trails and forced tension out of the muscles. 

 "Over, Jean."

He rolled on his back and watched her as she began at the top of his head and massaged her way down slowly, closing his eyes as the motion of her fingertips and the heat of the oil sunk in. "Where did you learn to do this?"

"I've had full body massages before. I'm not as good as I could be. There's a trick to deep muscle massages I couldn't manage without training."

"If you decide to take any courses, sign me up as your practice partner. I should be angry that you haven't tried this on me before, but then you'd stop. You know, if you'd just started doing this years ago as a regular part of our counseling sessions, I might have been a little more cooperative."

"Sshh. Memory lane is closed for the night. The exclusive captain's massage parlor is open for business, but we have a no reminiscing policy."

Her hands traveled down his neck. She stopped, then started at his forehead and worked her thumbs over the bony ridges of his eye sockets, down his nose, and across his cheeks. He closed his eyes, enjoying this different kind of touch -- he'd never enjoyed massage, but her touch was always welcome. Then he noticed that he had a partial erection and wondered. She wasn't touching him in any way sensually and he wasn't thinking like that.

"I know it would satisfy your ego to find you've suddenly got the libido of a twenty-five-year-old, but something's not right."

"I don't know. Honestly, I have no clue -- and I really don't want to go to sickbay to ask."

"I even checked on the possibility of similar behavior among Betazoid couples who are _hajira_ \-- I'm almost afraid to extrapolate, since neither one of us is really Betazoid and telepathic, but there's not enough there to extrapolate from. Not even when the woman is in Phase."

"Do you know what you would be like in Phase, considering your human half?" It was a possible explanation for her higher level of irritability with her mother, now that he thought about it.

She switched arms. His body felt limp, for the most part. Her slight movements against him as she kneaded him into jelly kept him from being too relaxed. "I'm too young, and no, I don't know. I'm reasonably certain it wouldn't affect you. Maybe _you're_ in Phase? You know, that would explain this."

"Now you're being ridiculous." He watched her work her fingertips into his palm. "Maybe you're really half Deltan and it's pheromones."

"Touche. What did you eat today?"

"Nothing you didn't see. I had the usual for breakfast, we ate with Natalia at lunch in the lounge -- oh, I did visit hydroponics, and sample some of B'nai'gar's latest acquisitions."

"Which were?"

"Ratarrigian. Several kinds of fruit -- very sour, and nearly rock-like."

"You probably didn't bother to ask if he knew whether they had any unusual affects on other species?"

"Ratarrigians are a recent addition to the Federation. He might not know. He did ensure they wouldn't be poisonous." Jean-Luc paused, then tensed suddenly. "They were part of the appetizer course for dinner. Most of the fruits and vegetables were from hydroponics."

Deanna placed her hands flat on his chest and bowed her head, letting her hair fall around her face. "Computer, where is Lwaxana Troi?"

"Ambassador Troi is in Ambassador Telor'set's quarters."

"Oh, Jean," she moaned. "I should have known. All that fighting. I've been trying hard to completely block her out and I don't doubt she's doing the same. Poor Telor'set probably doesn't even realize -- "

"I'm sorry," Jean-Luc said, failing miserably at containing his laughter. "It isn't really funny. Wait a minute -- didn't you eat any of them?"

"I missed the appetizer course. I was late getting there. And shame on you for not even bothering to notice."

"I knew, believe me, but I thought you might have gotten some just the same. You know, it might wear off faster if I just gave in. Or not. I'm not certain which I'd hope for." He brushed his fingertips across her knee and slid his hand up her thigh, the satin robe slick under his palm.

Saint-Saens ended at last, and she sat up again and slowly peeled off her robe. Hands on her knees, she let him get a long look at her, straightening her shoulders and showing off her body. He stared, barely able to breath for the rising heart fire between them.

"You're killing me," he whispered. Her sly smile and the mischievousness mingling with the desire in her dark eyes told him that it was a very good day to die, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Natalia hated Kasey every morning, like clockwork. She covered her face with her pillow and tried to not hear the humming. Kasey loved stupid folk tunes from her homeworld, one of many colonies, and nearly all of the tunes had repetitive, annoyingly-simple melodies. In the interest of good roommate relations and because Kasey tolerated her late night study sessions and moodiness, Natalia put up with it.

Once her turn in the bathroom came, she rushed through getting ready, slipped her single hollow pip in place, and raced out the door. Breakfast in the mess hall took too long. She made it to engineering two minutes late. Outside the wide window, the warp core sent regular flickers of blue light into the interior of La Forge's office; as if bowing to that unchangeable feature, he'd hung a brilliant blue and white painting of a nebula on the wall opposite, and the glow of warp energy made it seem there might be a pulsar somewhere in it. She wondered if there might be an intentional trick of paint that did it.

She stood at attention in front of his desk. "Sir, I'm sorry I'm late. It won't happen again."

The engineer blinked -- his implants looked almost natural, even if they were an odd color, until one noticed the mechanical movement of the pupil. "Have a seat, Ensign. It's no problem -- I didn't even notice, really."

She sat stiffly. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"It's come to my attention you're not quite comfortable on duty, Natalia. Is there something wrong?"

"Not really, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway. I guess the other ensigns in engineering just don't care for me that much, and it causes a little tension between us sometimes." A little -- that was a politic way of putting it.

"I like to consider my engineering staff a team." He put down the padd he'd been holding and folded his hands on his desk, leaning forward. "I'd like to resolve this difficulty. And frankly, Ensign, I'm a little disappointed that I heard about this from the captain before I heard it from you."

Natalia gaped at him. "Sir -- I didn't tell the captain! Not that way -- he was just being friendly, and I was really trying to talk to the counselor about it, to see if I could find a way to -- "

"Calm down, Natalia. He didn't approach me in any official capacity about it, but he did mention that he'd seen you in the lounge and that you seemed upset because of some tension between you and some of the other engineering staff present. He wanted to know if there was anything I thought he should be aware of. I've known things aren't quite what they should be, but I try to let people sort out personal problems on their own when it doesn't affect their performance on duty. What I want from you is your honest opinion -- is this something that will sort itself out, or do I have to start talking to the others?"

She watched his lips moving in a daze. Almost hypnotized, she shook herself and paid more attention to the words. "I can sort it out, sir. It's really just me. They don't have problems among themselves -- I'm just an odd duck, that's all. I always have been."

LaForge smiled with more warmth than usual. "You don't look like a duck."

"I'm a duck. I don't do small talk well enough to have a lot of friends or get dates. I just didn't do well in school so far as social stuff went. All the other girls turned to swans, and I just waddled along, not tomboyish enough to hang out with the guys and not girlish enough to shop and paint my nails with the girls." She sighed. "And I have the bad habit of sharing my personal trials and tribulations without much prompting. Sorry."

"That's all right." LaForge sat back and thought for a moment. "Actually, I know where you're coming from. I was a pretty odd duck, too. You just have to learn to roll with the punches, that's all. It'll get easier."

Natalia had never been alone in his presence before for this long. She endured a little more of a pep talk from him, trying to keep her eyes on his face politely and failing. 

"Natalia, are you with me?"

"Yes, sir." She raised her gaze and used that bravado she'd worked so hard to acquire to look him in the eye. "I guess I'm just a little tired -- my roommate snores a little too loud."

"Just remember I'm here if you have concerns. It's my department. You seem to like to keep to yourself, but if something's affecting your performance I'd like to know."

"Thank you, sir."

She left engineering and headed for Deanna's office, several decks and sections away. The counselor's office was smaller than La Forge's, with just two chairs facing the desk and the same basic spartan decor; she'd brightened it with a soft pastel watercolor hung on one wall and a vase of flowers, tall red lilies this time, sat on a corner of the desk. Deanna smiled at her just like always, and Natalia noticed a piece of paper in front of her, turned so Natalia could read it.

"Good morning. I'd like to do a brief review of goals before we get started," Deanna said. "Since this is our fifteenth session, it's time. Take a look at what you wrote down, and tell me whether you think you've made progress or not."

Natalia looked at the list without picking it up. She remembered the goals well enough, actually, though she hadn't seen the list since her initial appointment. Paper had been the chosen medium, because padds were so easily altered. Her three goals, written in her broad left-handed scrawl, were plainly legible. "I think I've done better at being more outgoing. I know I've done better with talking to my commanding officer -- I just left Mr. LaForge's office, in fact. The third one I don't know about."

Deanna waited a while, giving her time to talk, but showed no surprise when she didn't take it. "Where would you like our sessions to go next? Since you're doing better in the professional realm, we could begin to work on the third goal more extensively, don't you think?"

"I think we should. I need to get it behind me. I think it's related to my other difficulties."

"That's an interesting observation for you to make. You insisted when you started counseling that the difficulties you have with co-workers and the trouble you've had with depression were two separate issues." Deanna steeped her fingers and placed her hands on her desk. "What made you change your mind?"

"The captain said maybe I was trying too hard, and I think he's right."

The counselor tilted her head and looked confused. "When did he tell you that?"

"Last night in the weight room. He said I shouldn't try to intentionally build walls between myself and others. I don't think I was, really, but it made me think about how I must appear to other people." Natalia smiled a little. "So where to start?"

"Why don't you tell me why you think you became depressed?"

"Isn't that a little obvious?" Natalia picked at a jagged edge of the nail on her right pinky. "I guess you're trying to start me from the beginning, aren't you?"

"So tell me why you think you're depressed."

Tears threatened, and the choking feeling gripped her. Natalia looked at the wall, at the bare space alongside the painting, focusing on the plain gray surface without blemish or pattern. It would have been easy to blank out, plead off, and go back to work, but what Deanna had said in her first session came back to her -- repression. She'd denied there was anything to repress and in successive sessions refused to follow Deanna's lead in talking about it. Maybe it was time to give it a try. Maybe there was something to it.

"All I ever wanted was to be an officer," she whispered. "Ever since I was old enough to have some idea of what Starfleet was. I wanted to be just like Daddy. Just like my Uncle Telly, and Uncle Wallie -- they were so composed, so calm about everything, so in control -- I wanted to wear the uniform and have my own ship. I wanted to be captain, so I could live the stories I've heard. I used to walk around the neighborhood looking for captains when I heard another ship had come into dock. Uncle Wallie was the only captain I've ever really met, and he died -- I only met him a few times. He used to send me messages every once in a while. Just to me -- I felt so special. I had messages, me, from a great starship captain, with my name on the top. I still listen to Uncle Wallie's messages once in a while but it's not the same any more. I see now that he was only being polite to me. They really weren't all that affectionate. He never really knew me, because he was always gone. Like. . . Daddy. I was -- he -- "

Deanna waited patiently while Natalia sorted through it some more. "When it happened, I was ten years old. Daddy was on duty. I was walking down a street thinking about Uncle Wallie and the last message I got from him, when I saw him. He was in a uniform -- he wore it just to get into fleet housing without arousing suspicion. He wasn't really ever Starfleet but I didn't know that until much later. And all those counselors kept trying to tell me I didn't do anything wrong, and trying to make me feel things I didn't feel -- I just wanted them to go away. I told them what they seemed to want to hear and drew pictures for them, just like they wanted. They said I was okay and I went back to school. I didn't really have problems until I got to the Academy -- then I kept having these panic attacks, not really associated with anything, just out of the blue. I'd be walking through the grounds and suddenly just want to run for my life in any direction. And I felt so much more comfortable studying and reading, and I couldn't seem to find anything to be interested in, other than studying. I made friends but they didn't seem as open with me as they did with each other. It -- I --"

"Were you jealous?"

"Yes." Natalia began to cry. She hated it -- all those times she'd burst into tears, and her mother had rushed to hug her, only managing to make her feel smothered. All those times in the middle of the night alone in bed, when she wanted comfort and had no one to do it. The friends who stopped hanging around and looked at her funny, just when she needed them the most. All the opposites in her life. Needing but not having, having and not needing -- it wasn't fair.

"What happened to you when you were ten years old?"

"It's in my records," she blurted, ignoring the handkerchief Deanna pushed across the desk.

"I want to hear your version. Please."

"Can't we just talk about depression?"

"Have you ever done any gardening?"

Natalia looked up at her in surprise. "What?"

"My mother loves flowers. She has beautiful gardens, always has, and as a child I used to work with the gardeners sometimes for the fun of it. There's a particular kind of weed on Betazed that's almost impossible to kill. It has a very long root that reaches deep into the soil, and spraying only kills the top of the plant and a few feet of the root. Eventually the deepest part of the root begins to grow again. The only way to get rid of the weed permanently is to dig, sometimes making a huge hole and moving a lot of dirt, until you find the very beginning of the root and pull it out."

Natalia gulped and rubbed her eye. She reached for the handkerchief at last and twisted it slowly. "I'm afraid sometimes and I don't know why. It hurts. Like I don't have anything in my chest but the pain -- I can't breathe, sometimes, just standing there looking at a panel in engineering. Trying to talk about what happened the way you want me to makes me more afraid -- I don't want to."

"Natalia, do you want to move forward, or not? You've been coming to see me for months. I think you're ready to start talking about it, otherwise I wouldn't be giving you this push to do it. I know it's frightening -- it will get better. What do you remember first about the incident itself? Not the counselors or your parents. What's the first thing you remember, after you met him on the street?"

"His hands," she whispered. "He had clean nails. The palms were a lighter shade, almost pinkish. He touched my face -- he was so gentle. He offered me a watermelon warp core -- that was my favorite candy. He said he had a dog with a litter of puppies, and wanted to know if I wanted one. I knew four pips meant a captain -- he told me his name was. . . ."

There was a stain on the floor in front of the other chair. Natalia wouldn't have noticed it unless she'd been so intent on finding a distraction. The lines were faint, the liquid had been clear or so light that the utilitarian grayish-red fabric didn't show it well. It had to be recent.

"His name was?" Deanna's question brought her back.

"I don't know."

"Natalia," Deanna chided.

"He said his name was Calloway. Daddy admired Captain Calloway. I felt safe with him. I wanted to make friends with him, invite him home to meet Mom and impress her. I wanted to be able to tell Daddy all about it. I didn't know Captain Calloway wasn't that young, or what ethnic background he was. I didn't know enough to see the things that would have told me he was -- "

She hugged herself and bowed her head, knotting herself tightly and closing her eyes to dam up the tears. To her surprise, Deanna didn't come put an arm around her, or otherwise try to comfort her.

"You were very young. Why are you being so hard on yourself?"

Natalia sat for a long time in the blankness that always came. The gray curtain fell. She sat on one side with her pain, and her voice and ability to discuss her feelings sat on the other. This was the way she'd learned to cope when they'd coaxed her, trying to get answers. She just wanted to be normal. No counseling, no mention of it in passing, no acknowledgment that she was anything but an average girl.

The distant feeling faded, quite gradually. She began to feel silly for wasting Deanna's time. She couldn't look up, however; the rising frustration at the interference of the blankness with her session, and other feelings she couldn't name, choked her.

"Look at the chair next to you."

Deanna's voice fell into the silence just as Natalia was about to excuse herself. The request was so unusual that she obeyed out of curiosity. It looked just like the one she sat in, only empty. "What about it?"

"I want you to pretend that ten-year-old Natalia Greenman is sitting there. She's just gotten home from a session with her counselor. What does she look like?"

"Pigtails," Natalia said, finding that she remembered well enough. "Long arms and legs, and skinny. Short. My mother called me Nat the Gnat."

"Is there anything you wish you could tell yourself at ten years old?"

Natalia's eyes prickled. She stared open-mouthed at the empty chair, mostly because it was the safest place to look. The other counselors hadn't tried this with her.

"Go ahead and say it. Close your eyes and imagine her sitting there. Think about how she feels and why, and tell her whatever comes into your mind."

"I can't -- this is silly," she blurted. "It's just an empty chair."

"Tell yourself the truth -- you won't. You _can_ \-- you have my permission to say anything here. You can even get mad at me. Many people do. Just tell yourself the truth while you're in this office, from now on, no matter how uncomfortable it gets, and things will get better. Okay?"

Deanna's voice, so velvety and calm, seemed to wrap around her like a quilt. Natalia opened her mouth to breath, her nose too plugged to do so, and rubbed her lips with the handkerchief. "I'd tell her not to worry."

"Talk directly to her. Forget I'm here. Take your time and imagine you're in her bedroom back home, if you have to."

At the mention of it, her old room formed in her mind. She pictured herself at ten on the bed, kicking the bed frame, listening to her father and mother in the kitchen talking in low voices she couldn't hear from down the hall -- from the concern in their voices she knew she was the topic.

"It's all right, they're just worried about you -- they don't think you're bad." The first sentence was the hardest, the most awkward. But once she said it, something inside loosened. She pictured herself again, at the mirror in the bathroom, staring at her reflection with tight angry voices echoing down the hall. Staring at her own red eyes and thin face, hating. The droning voices of adults who showed no compassion, the weeping her mother did behind a closed door, the overwhelming hugs good-night and sudden bed checks late at night when Mom woke from a bad dream and had to come see for herself that her daughter was safe. Society was supposed to be more advanced than this. Sexual predators were supposed to be extinct. From the statistics, which they claimed were lower than any previous century, predators weren't so easily done away with. They were rare enough that the appearance of one made headlines, however.

Natalia imagined her ten-year-old self, and her throat tightened. The words tumbled out in fits and starts. "They don't hate you for letting it happen -- they're angry at the man, not you. They're angry at the authorities for being so slow. They're mad because Daddy has to leave soon and he doesn't want to go and leave you when they know you're afraid and you don't want to leave your room and you don't want to see the counselor and -- Karen didn't know how you felt. How could she? She's only ten too, just like you, and there's nothing she could do about what happened -- she doesn't even know the words to use to talk about it. Uncle Telly was right. It's not your fault, not what happened or anyone's reaction to it, nothing about it was your fault and everything you did was okay -- "

When the words stopped coming, when Natalia finally realized she was speaking through a rain of tears and her short nails were digging into her palms and tearing the handkerchief, she began to sob uncontrollably. She hadn't cried that way in a long time. The sobs slowed after just a few minutes, dwindling to whooping gasps for air, and Deanna waved another handkerchief under her nose. She looked up as she took it and realized the counselor had come around to lean on the desk in front of her.

"You're an extremely intelligent and sensitive person, Natalia," Deanna said warmly. "There's a lot of emotion locked up inside, however, and you keep it to yourself. You came to me for help -- I'm glad you did. I'd like to help you. Will you keep letting me do that?"

"Yes." The word had no force or emotion, and very little air -- funny how 'yes' could be said with so little effort, and 'no' had to have more motivation. But she was so tired, her eyes hurt, her chest felt tight as usual whenever she let herself think about things too much.

"I'd like to see you again tomorrow, at the same time. I know we usually go a few weeks in between, but you've taken a big step today in trusting me with your tears. Your real ones, the ones you never show -- there are many kinds of crying, you know. We don't often share the most private kind with others. Thank you for sharing it with me."

She waited, and Natalia gulped and ventured a smile. Probably a really weak one, but the counselor rewarded it with an affectionate one.

"Why don't we quit a little early, just this once? Find a quiet place and just think about what happened in this session. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'd like to hear what you think, but you'll need a little time to think it first."

"Thanks." Natalia stood, feeling weak and odd, then smiled again at her and left the office. She wobbled to the nearest lift and asked for deck ten. It stopped once, too soon to be ten, and she didn't take her hands from her face, just continued to rub her eyes and lean against the wall. A person had come in and stood on the other side of the car from her. She peered at the panel near the door when the lift stopped again -- deck eight. The person left and another entered. No, two others.

"You said you -- "

"Lwaxana," the captain chided softly, then he said, "Computer, deck seven. Ensign, are you all right?"

She didn't want to move her hands from her eyes but did so anyway, one of them going to her mouth automatically. She couldn't do it. One glance at his concerned expression and she had to turn away, into the wall of the lift to hide. As it was the sobs pent up in her wrenched her gut into a knot. She couldn't handle falling apart in front of the captain, her commanding officer -- she was supposed to impress him, not turn into a bawling kid.

The woman gasped. "Oh, my dear, what's the matter? Why are you feeling so terribly unhappy?"

"I'm all right," Natalia whispered. The wall felt rough on her forehead as she leaned away -- she straightened again, trying not to break apart. "I just need to -- "

"You are most certainly not all right! Someone's hurt you -- Jean-Luc, how could this happen aboard your ship?" Gentle hands tugged on Natalia's arm.

"Computer, hold the lift. Ensign?"

Natalia heard undercurrents in his voice she couldn't readily identify, but he was calling her to duty. She stood upright and rolled her shoulders back. "Sir, I'm fine. A little upset at the moment, but nothing's happened, and I'm on my way to my quarters to make myself presentable for my next duty shift."

Her eyes fell on the captain's companion at last -- dark eyes, like Deanna's. A shockingly-blue long dress, like she was on her way to a dinner party. The older woman frowned and took Natalia by the shoulders. "Dear, you're very brave, but you can't lie to a Betazoid. There's something very, very wrong."

"Ensign Greenman, this is Counselor Troi's mother, Ambassador Lwaxana Troi of Betazed." He met Natalia's eyes over the worried woman's shoulder, his mouth twisting in grim amusement. "Lwaxana, this is Ensign Natalia Greenman -- let her speak for herself."

Lwaxana rounded on him. "Jean-Luc! This poor child -- "

"I'm fine, Ambassador, thank you for your concern," Natalia said.

"Well!" Lwaxana dropped her arms to her sides and stood back. "I suppose if you really want to keep all that bottled up inside you, that's your choice, but it's unhealthy and not at all --"

"Ambassador," the captain interrupted, hardening his tone. He told the lift to resume, and a moment later Natalia left the ambassador and captain behind, relieved that she didn't have to be trapped in that space with what sounded like the beginnings of a disagreement.

Natalia reached her quarters and was washing her face when it struck her -- the patient tone he'd taken with the ambassador, the grim acceptance of her behavior -- of course. She was like a mother-in-law. A telepathic one at that, with apparent disregard for privacy. Though, Natalia supposed, Mrs. Troi might have observed how upset she was just as easily by simply looking at her, the way the captain had. And Deanna had said once that more intense emotions tended to be more readily detectable to her. But still. . . .

Natalia glanced at her red-eyed reflection in the mirror over the sink and shook her head. "Poor Captain Picard."

 

* * *

 

"I don't allow patients to suffer, Mother."

"She was in agony!"

Deanna stared at her mother, fork held vertical to her plate. Most of her food was untouched. Jean-Luc, after his initial comments, had been silent for the past twenty minutes of the debate, which had just circled around yet again to the same point. He wondered idly how many suitors Lwaxana had intimidated into retreat, just to see if she was paying attention -- he knew most of the times she'd claimed to read his thoughts in the past had been nothing more than teasing, but her actions in the lift had been suspect. She'd confirmed his guess by demanding that Deanna do something about her patient.

"I'm not going to argue about this any more," Deanna announced. "It's pointless. You're not being reasonable. My patients and their lives are none of your business, and you know that -- you're just fighting with me to be difficult."

"I wish you would stop referring to me as 'difficult.' If anyone here is difficult, it's you! Anyone could see how upset that poor girl was." Lwaxana looked at Jean-Luc and gestured at him impatiently. "Even he saw how upset she was. I want to know why no one is doing anything to help her!"

"She's being helped, Lwaxana. I've learned not to question my ship's counselor when it comes to her methodology," Jean-Luc said, ignoring the implied slight. "And I'm frankly perturbed by your intrusion on the ensign's privacy. There was only one way you could have known she was Deanna's patient."

"I don't know why I'm sitting here putting myself through this," she exclaimed, rising from her seat. She left the table and rushed from the captain's quarters as if they were chasing her.

Deanna propped her elbows on the edge of the table and held her head in her hands. Jean-Luc thought about it more, and sighed.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Clearly she's more sensitive than before, for some reason."

"I've never seen her this worked up," Deanna said, sounding more distressed than he'd heard her be in years. She dropped her hands and shoved the plate away from her, and shook her head. "I don't know what to do. I tried -- I sat with her and listened. I sat calmly, I asked questions. I gave her plenty of opportunity to settle down. She keeps doing this, complaining and never giving real feedback on why."

"There's something she isn't saying then. Something she doesn't want to say, because it's too much to bear in the telling. We've already witnessed the consequences of her determination to not bear the unpleasant truth."

Deanna seemed less bleak, looking at him. She thought about that. "Thank you for being so level-headed about this."

"Her behavior has never rattled you this way before, that I have seen."

"She's so angry at me. I don't understand why." She sighed heavily. "I thought she would be so happy! The only thing she's ever wished over and over that I would do, get married, and she can't be happy for me? Why?"

Jean-Luc thought about that, about what he'd told Natalia, and wondered if Lwaxana had something in common with the ensign. "Can you finish your lunch? I think you should. We're supposed to beam down shortly."

Deanna tried, but it was clear this had affected her appetite. She poked at her salad and seemed lost in thought.

He finished his meal, recycled the dishes, and came back to her to put a hand on her shoulder. "Come with me."

"Okay," she said, rising to her feet, a little confused. She followed him into the bedroom, where he went through the steps to open his safe in the base of his bed, pulled out a small box, and closed the safe again, then put a hand on the bed to lever himself up from one knee.

"I have been waiting impatiently for the right time to give this to you, but there appears to be no really appropriate moment. So this is as good a moment as any."

"What is it?" She took the box, which when opened held another box, recognizably for jewelry, and she smiled as she pulled out the ring. He watched her examine the band. It had taken some doing, to find a jeweler and then have it shipped to a starbase to be held for him to pick it up. But from her joyful contemplation of it, the effort had been well worth it. 

"I realize that engagement rings are not traditional on Betazed, but even if you wouldn't wish to I thought it would be "

"Jean-Luc, of course I wish to," she exclaimed, putting it on the appropriate finger. "It's a beautiful ring -- a work of art. Where did you find it?"

"It -- well. I designed it, because nothing I could find really seemed right to me." 

Now she was truly surprised, and put her arms around him tightly. He reciprocated, swept up yet again in the bond, enjoying the moments of happiness. He'd spent too much time browsing for the right ring, and finally resorted to describing the rough idea of what he wanted to the computer then sending the draft to a jeweler, whose final version was a major improvement over the original design. The end result was done in rose and white gold, finely engraved with swimming swans. The details were so tiny that a casual look at it gave one the impression it was just an abstract design.

When she took a step back, she was wiping tears away. "I love you, Jean-Luc."

"There's a wedding band as well. The fish are on it."

She laughed, which resonated through him, as he added his own joy to hers at her response. Leaning on him, her hands on his shoulders, she presented her lips and he kissed her as requested. They held each other for a little longer, but both of them knew there was a mission afoot and he should go. He'd intended to have a one-on-one with Telor'set, since Lwaxana's presence had been so distracting yesterday.

"Poetry later," he murmured. 

"Poetry optional. I think your timing is perfect. Thank you," she mumbled, leaning into him and kissing his cheek. "I know you should go. But I'm looking forward to finishing this mission and having some time for ourselves."

"Yes. I'm going to the bridge."

When they parted she smiled up at him blissfully, and watched him leave with a happy light in her eyes. He thought about what else he might surprise her with, when he had the time and opportunity, as he left their quarters.

Data was in the lift when he entered it. "Hello, Captain. Is Ambassador Troi feeling better today?" 

"That's difficult to assess, Data. Computer, bridge."

"I hope that she is," Data went on. "I also hope that Deanna feels better. They were both very frustrated."

Sometimes, Data's attempts to pick apart and understand social situations were poorly timed. "When family members quarrel, it's best to let them work it out themselves," he said, before Data went too far in trying to hold this informal briefing. 

"I agree," Data said. As luck would have it the lift opened, and they walked down the bridge together. 

"Contact Ambassador Telor'set and ask him to meet with me in my ready room," Jean-Luc said, veering left toward the door. Data veered right, to take the conn. Behind him he heard deLio follow the order.

He had a tea service on the table in front of the couch by the time the ambassador arrived. Halii were telepathic as well, he understood, but were less capable than Betazoids, from what he'd gleaned so far. Telor'set was a portly man, slightly taller, with a ready smile and an easygoing attitude. "Good afternoon, Captain," he said as he strolled in. "I understand we'll be arriving in a few hours. I'm glad of the opportunity to discuss this with you -- Lwaxana is a wonderful woman, but quite distracting."

"Yes," Jean-Luc said, though he was certain he meant it quite differently than Telor'set. "Please have a seat -- would you care for some tea?"

Telor'set settled on the edge of the couch, and accepted a cup of tea happily. He had eyes nearly as dark as a Betazoid's, toffee-colored skin, and a faint ridge over his brows and down his nose. His black clothing was suggestive of a uniform, almost, simple and utilitarian. "You are an accomplished diplomat, I understand. Many successful negotiations to your credit. Have you received the information forwarded by Admiral Nechayev regarding the Adnalons?"

"I did." Jean-Luc leaned back and crossed his legs, cup in hand. "Their territory has historically been outside Starfleet's sphere of operations, so there are no detailed descriptions of their culture or of them."

"And the wars they have fought were between factions of their own, not with their neighbors -- the Romulans have left them alone. I anticipate that we'll have little difficulty establishing good relations with them. My concern is for the unknown. We're traveling out of Federation space, along the borders of the Romulan Empire. I've never met the Romulans, my efforts have been focused along the boundaries of the Federation far from the Empire. I haven't heard anything from the admiral that suggested she anticipated difficulties, but I suspect you have enough experience to inform my concerns?"

Jean-Luc was thinking about the distances and boundaries, and the heading they were on. "I am not an alarmist, as perhaps you know. But recent dealings with the Romulans have left relations with them unsettled. How involved were you in the Dominion War?"

Telor'set harrumphed. "Not very involved. I had a few assignments closer to the front, but was never called upon to attempt negotiations with any of the Gamma Quadrant species. A blessing, if you ask me. That war could have been the end of the Federation."

"Have you been in many first contact situations? The only contact with the Adnalons has been via subspace." Jean-Luc sipped the hot tea, ignoring the topic of the war for now. 

"My involvement usually comes after the contact has been made and a treaty is to be negotiated -- I am gathering that Starfleet is very nervous about this one based on the urgency of it all, more than anything that's been said." Telor'set seemed sad, as he contemplated the situation. "You know, I have mixed feelings about continuing in the Diplomatic Corps. Prior to the war it wasn't quite so stressful. So much importance is being given to each negotiation."

The difference between being the largest, strongest alliance in the quadrant, and being left with millions dead and a decimated fleet, Jean-Luc thought. "All of them are important, though."

Telor'set gazed at him seriously, and his smile returned. "Do you anticipate Lwaxana's mood to be an obstacle?"

Jean-Luc's heavy sigh was so automatic he couldn't catch himself. "As I am uncertain as to the cause of it, I'm unable to guess."

Telor'set's eyes veered away, as he turned introspective for a few moments. "Captain, I do not want to be indiscreet. But it strikes me that you likely already know that she does not care for your assignation with her daughter."

"Which is a peculiar thing, as Deanna has had relationships with officers in the past and Deanna's father was an officer, and that was not an issue for Lwaxana. But yes, she has made it known to us. What isn't clear is why -- and you are not alone in wanting to avoid indiscretion."

"I have traveled a great deal, and I have had occasional encounters with women. I make it clear that I am not looking for a life mate, and I don't have problems with misunderstandings. But some of the things she said... I will be distancing myself, and I hope that the brief encounter with her last night does not cause you further conflict with her. I do see that she is... struggling is perhaps the best word, with making sense of things."

Jean-Luc held his breath briefly rather than sigh again, and refocused. "The Adnalons are most interested in technology exchange. Perhaps we should discuss the details of what we are able to accommodate, and what would be off the table?"

 

* * *

  

Natalia headed for the one empty holodeck, hoping to find a rock in a meadow to sit on in some simulation. Maybe the computer had a good holo-tour of the Marin Peninsula where she had often gone to run in the mornings when she was a cadet. There were some good overlooks where she could sit looking out at the Pacific Ocean.

But when she walked inside, she froze -- Ambassador Troi was standing in the middle of the room on the grid. "Oh -- I'm sorry, the computer should have told me you were here," she exclaimed, turning to go.

"Oh, no," she cried, holding up her hand, "not at all. No need to leave -- please join me. I'm so sorry about that scene in the turbolift."

Natalia hesitated, eyeing the woman in the neon-blue shining gown. Lwaxana smiled warmly, and Natalia approached, crossing her arms. "It wasn't a big deal. You just caught me at the wrong time."

That led to a pitying look, which annoyed her to no end. Natalia backed a step. 

"You don't like sympathy," Lwaxana said. "I'm sorry, my dear."

"Honestly, I'm tired of being treated like there's something wrong with me. Literally every counselor I've ever spoken to tells me the same thing, that it gets better with time, this thing I'm dealing with, but the thing that doesn't is the reaction of every single person who finds out I was in the wrong place at the wrong time to run into the one human in a million who wanted to take advantage of a little kid. It's a rare thing -- in the Federation, no one hurts kids. But sometimes they do. So people are surprised -- and once again I get the questions, how could it happen, why did it happen, and pity." Natalia caught herself, and turned for the door. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, ma'am."

"I'm tired of it too," Lwaxana said, surprising her.

Natalia turned back, on the verge of reaching the arch. "You are?"

Lwaxana looked around at the yellow gridwork on black. "Computer, give me a bench, in a park, on Betazed."

"Please spec -- "

"ANY park, take your pick," Lwaxana exclaimed, exasperated. The computer didn't ask again. Green grassy fields surrounded a bench -- there was shrubbery here and there, and the blue sky overhead showed a flock of birds. She sat on the bench and waved Natalia over.

Against her better judgment, Natalia went. "Maybe I should ask if you're okay?"

Lwaxana frowned, as she shook her head. "I'm simply upset, that I am treated as if I won't understand. How old are you, dear?"

"I'm twenty-two. Why?"

Lwaxana patted Natalia's thigh, but withdrew quickly when Natalia flinched. "I'm sorry. I ask because I wonder if you are perhaps a mother?"

"I have a mother, I've never been one, and I don't think I want to be."

"Well. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened, if I had done the things I wanted to do, instead of the things I thought I should do," Lwaxana said sadly. "I don't know what to think, any more. I've done so many things in my life. I've been married four times -- almost married twice more. My older daughter died when she was just a child, and my younger daughter -- oh, I suppose she isn't young either." She let her hands fall in her lap and she slumped forward, looking defeated. 

Natalia's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Are you upset because she's old, or because you're old? And what does that mean anyway -- isn't that different for everyone? My uncle is pretty old and he doesn't complain a whole lot."

"I suppose you're right. But I have always felt that I could do whatever I want, and I have done -- I had a husband just last year who -- never mind that now," she said, waving her hands as if shooing away the thoughts. "Anyway. I was looking forward to seeing my daughter, who has done so well for herself -- and then I find out she's -- oh! I can't talk about this."

Natalia cocked her head. "She's with the captain, is that what you mean?"

"She didn't even tell me," Lwaxana said breathlessly, each word sounding airy and insubstantial. She winced thinking about it. "She's supposed to  _marry him._ "

"Oh," Natalia blurted. She hadn't known about that -- not that she would, because it wasn't the sort of thing an ensign would be told. 

"I wanted to  _talk_ to her and now -- now all she can do is scold me, because I was upset -- she wants to know  _why_ I'm upset and why wouldn't I be upset when my own daughter doesn't tell me she has a man she's  _thinking_ of marrying, she waits until she decides to marry him and we're in the middle of this mission, and she doesn't bring him home, doesn't introduce him to the family, why am I the last person to know?"

Natalia shrugged. "I didn't. I mean, no one aboard knows -- if someone did, everyone would, because that's the way gossip works on a starship."

Technicalities, she realized, were the wrong thing to resort to, and it won her a brief angry look -- but it melted fast, and Lwaxana simply looked sad.

"You sound lonely," Natalia said. Because why would she be here talking to a random ensign if she weren't?

Lwaxana laughed, but it didn't sound happy. It was more mockery than happy. "Oh -- I have friends, in every corner of the Federation. I have friends, and cousins, and people who have told me they would be there for me, any time I call. But I wish more than  _anything_ that my daughter loved me the way she used to. We shared  _everything._ "

Natalia considered this assertion. "I don't think so."

Lwaxana gazed at her, leaning away from her slightly, even shifting away on the bench. 

"I'm a daughter. I was close to my mom. I told her a lot but I sure kept things to myself when I thought I'd get it for saying anything, and I avoided telling her a lot of things I thought might hurt her or disappoint her -- I still haven't told her some of the things that happened to me at the Academy. She's cried enough on my behalf for one lifetime already."

Lwaxana seemed to deflate somewhat and turn sad again, as she spoke. "Oh," she said woefully. 

"I don't think through anything well when I'm upset either." Natalia shrugged again, hunching her shoulders, thinking of all the times she'd had difficulty with her own temper. 

"I suppose I am being.... Oh, dear, dear dear," Lwaxana said with a sigh. "You know, it really isn't easy, being older. It can be so difficult to do things that were once so easy. And more and more, I start to think how nice it would be, to be at home. But I get so lonely."

Natalia wondered about the marriages and why none of them had stuck around, but settled for shrugging again rather than asking. 

"I wonder if you are lonely, too."

"Yeah. But I'm weird, like I said before. I don't react emotionally to things like other people my age do. I can't say I have any interest in parties, or -- a lot of what they do," she replied, avoiding the topic of sex completely. "And I want to really focus on my career while I can. I like the work I'm doing right now. I think around the time it gets boring I'll be ready for the next challenge."

"What would you be doing right now, if you could do anything you want?" 

"I... don't know," Natalia said, caught off guard. Lwaxana suddenly didn't sound so upset any more, and that was confusing.

"Do you like mud baths?"

"I think -- "

Suddenly the computer sounded a comm alert and the captain's voice filled the room. "Ambassador Troi, please report to transporter room two."

"Oh, dear child, I lost track of time -- I need to be off to Adnalon," she said, jumping up and fleeing the room without hesitation.

Natalia spent a few minutes in stunned contemplation of the conversation, then sighed and looked around. It was as good a place as any for some time in meditation. She had about twenty minutes until her shift.

"Computer, secure the holodeck."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Troi can sense emotions from remains lodged in a bulkhead (see season 7 of TNG) it's entirely possible to modify a genome to deliver memories and information. see: Star Trek, the inconsistently consistent science fiction series.
> 
> In the first version of this story I perpetrated the usual Trek info dump in sickbay with everyone standing around watching them be outrageous. I have removed my regrets from the story in this version and substituted scenes I may regret in the future when I am too old to actually revise it...

Jean-Luc followed the magistrate -- or so the translator rendered it -- into a large room decked out in drooping crimson and purple swags. Odd combination, but Data had remarked that the Adnalons could see a different segment of the spectrum than humans, so possibly it made perfect sense to them. There may even have been properties of the fabric that weren't detectable to him that made the effect stunningly beautiful.

Doghli gestured at the long table spread with an array of platters of multicolored foods, garish as the curtains. He blinked his round yellow eyes, snapped his blunt black claws together, and bowed. "Most noble, please partake as you wish. We have made precaution to ascertain nonpoisonous nature of all."

"Thank you, most noble," Jean-Luc said, smiling pleasantly. He glanced at Deanna, hovering off his left shoulder; they'd had their share of non-poisonous but nonetheless surprising encounters with alien food. deLio stepped forward on his right, getting his attention with the movement and holding a tricorder, his dewlapped face solemn as always. "My security chief would prefer to check, just the same, if that would not offend? Paranoia is his duty."

"No offense will be taken. We understand, most noble, and acquiesce." The magistrate stepped back with a sweeping wave of his arm, dangling sleeve passing over the table making near-collisions with what looked like sauce-laden roasted meat. One platter held a slightly-charred creature cooked whole, complete with eyeballs. No worse than visiting Qo'nos, Jean-Luc supposed. At least nothing was moving.

deLio scanned, nodded, and the handful of officers came forward. Carlisle and Data were still on the ship, but Glasson, the gamma shift ops man, had been selected to accompany the team. He had less experience, and this away mission was his fourth. The other three were security, and the entire team wore small palm-sized phasers in wrist holsters, out of respect for Telor'set's wishes and Jean-Luc's cautiousness. With a flick of the wrist the weapon would fall neatly into the hand. While they weren't powerful enough for a sustained firefight, they were effective enough for protection in a pinch until beamout.

Taking a small plate of food, Jean-Luc joined Doghli at the window. The gardens below, which they'd just walked through and in which the ambassadors, Federation and Adnalon, still wandered, were elaborate and full of brilliant rainbows of plants. The magistrate had explained in passing that, if watered with a non-toxic dye, the plant life here could be turned any color without ill effect. Lwaxana had been fascinated by the idea and demanded a more extensive tour, despite the magistrate's insistent encouragement to come inside with them. Telor'set seemed so infatuated with Lwaxana that he'd gone along with her. Two security officers tagged along like animated puppets, jerking to and fro in trying to keep up with Lwaxana; so were the Adnalon ambassadors, who often seemed unable to avoid colliding with her.

Deanna returned to her adopted position on Jean-Luc's left, holding a plate of the most vegetarian -seeming items she could find, quietly munching on something crispy. He didn't have to look to know she was there or what she'd selected. If her presence weren't palpable, Doghli's reaction would have told him. The sauroid waved a three-fingered hand in her direction and nodded, which seemed their equivalent for a smile. The serrated frill around the back of his skull turned a deeper shade of purple.

"Most graceful, a possibly-intrusive question?"

"You may ask," she said. 'Most noble' seemed the translation for an honored male; 'most graceful' appeared to apply only to Deanna and Lwaxana, and probably was therefore a female equivalent.

"You grow more of the head covering than the others. Is this choice or tradition?"

"Both. It does not stop growing. I have to cut it if I do not want it longer. Humans have the same choice. Most Betazoid and human females tend to prefer it longer than the males. We curl it or shape it as we wish -- for decorative purposes, like your tattoos." She pointed at his arm. He had elaborate twisting black tattooing on his greenish-yellow hide, which now had been obscured by the billowing green sleeves of what he'd called a negotiation robe.

"Interesting. Your master perhaps determines how you wear it?"

Deanna reoriented herself so she could see the Adnalon more clearly, putting herself in Jean-Luc's view. "Please rephrase -- what do you mean by 'master?'"

Doghli twisted his head left, then right, his frill blushing bright blue. "When we wish young ones, we choose a master or mistress of house. Traditional ceremony for a coupling includes the decoration of one another's bodies, to please."

"Then the answer is no. We choose for ourselves, though it's not unusual for someone to alter their appearance in consideration for a master's -- or mistress' -- wishes."

Jean-Luc studied his plate and selected a blue glob. "You mentioned that you had entertained a delegation of Romulans not long ago. Do the Romulans make appeals to you often?"

"We hear from them occasionally. They are neighbors. Our system is no strategic importance to anyone, and we have little resources interesting. They have not approached since before the war began three passes ago." Unlike most other races, Adnalons reckoned their years by the passing of a gas giant roughly the size of Jupiter as orbits brought the planets close; apparently, a pass was the equivalent of six Terran years, due to the differences between orbital velocities and the length of the orbits of the two planets.

The Romulans tended to avoid this sector entirely, judging from known flight patterns of their ships. Since the Adnalons inhabited three systems in a network of space stations and two terraformed planets in addition to the habitable worlds, the eighteen-year war had raged across open space, and apparently the Romulans found no reason to venture into the battle zone -- it would have been a waste of resources, as they would have been caught up in a battle from which they would not benefit, or so the Adnalons said. There were probably other, unknown considerations, Jean-Luc guessed. The magistrate's assessment of Adnalon space having no strategic importance wasn't necessarily true, from the Federation's point of view. Likely it also wasn't true from the Romulan's point of view, either, though Adnalon space was farther out in the Beta Quadrant than the Federation had previously ventured.

"When they approached you the last time, were they offering a treaty similar to the Federation's offer?" Deanna asked.

For the first time, Doghli hesitated and seemed at a loss for words. Deanna's eyes remained focused on him, waiting patiently, but Jean-Luc noticed her grip on the plate shifted slightly, tensing.

_Jean, watch him. Watch the hands. The color of the frill._

The hands, beneath the cover of the long sleeves, were moving. The faint rasp of claw against claw barely audible. The edges of the blue of his frill were growing darker.

_What does it mean?_

_Uncertainty and fear. Something's not right._

"We discussed a treaty, but no decisions made. The Romulans ask too much. They wish us to merge -- we are peaceful, they are not. We know this as all in area know this." Doghli's frill blushed midnight blue.

_He's terrified. He isn't telling you everything._

Jean-Luc kept a smile pasted on for appearances and looked out the window, considering. All had been going as planned; the meeting with the heads of the various Adnalon factions, which now constituted their government, had taken place in a building at the far end of the garden. Neutral territory -- the factions were comprised of a number of houses, and some part of their treaty with each other required that all meetings concerning their civilization as a whole be held on common ground. The Adnalons had shown every indication of being excellent candidates for Federation membership. They had technology on a par with the Romulans, and claimed an ability to defend themselves well enough if they had to. It was true, their territory had no real resources to speak of. The civil war had been fought over some internal crisis unrelated to materialistic concerns. Religion or clan, or possibly racial -- there were several species of Adnalon, judging from the variety of frills and skin colors. During the last pass the war had ended, and the factions united, officially. After initial contact had been made by a Federation vessel exploring beyond the reaches of the Federation or the Empire, they'd applied for membership.

But the very fact that they remained independent of the Empire bothered Jean-Luc. Now that the Enterprise had cruised through Adnalon space and seen part of their fleet, he knew the Empire could take over these sectors without much difficulty. Their ships, despite their boasts, would be no match for warbirds.

"I have had many encounters with the Romulans, myself," he said casually. "They can be deceitful, and difficult to deal with. There are exceptions. We have been at peace with them for some time now, but there has been an increase of activity along the Neutral Zone between the Empire and the Federation, and it's of concern to us. I find it encouraging that you have not experienced problems with them. Was the Romulan delegate Tomalak, perhaps? Or possibly Sela?"

He didn't expect a reaction to the names, just an easing of tension that might lead to casual mention of who had visited, but Doghli actually snapped his claws together and sidled a step, a brief flare of red appearing amid the blue. "Sela?" he blurted, snapping his beak shut on the word while more colors played rapidly along the frill ridges.

Deanna stiffened -- he felt her tension. She must be projecting it. She stared out the window. "Captain," she whispered.

In the center of the garden, in an open paved courtyard near an elaborate stone fountain, the security guards and the ambassadors, Federation and Adnalon both, were being held by a ring of the Adnalons with high spiked frills. All ten of them had weapons. As Jean-Luc took seconds to assess the scene, one of them took the comm badge and phaser from a lieutenant, tossed the items into some tall yellow shrubs, and strutted around the captives. The other security officer already lacked the badge, and presumably the phaser.

"I am sorry sorry sorry -- " Doghli dropped to the floor and held his hands over his head, clicking and grunting in distress.

Jean-Luc inhaled sharply. "deLio!"

The security officer was at the window with them in a flash. He sized up the situation in the garden and used his tricorder. "There would appear to be only ten of them -- no others concealed elsewhere in the garden. An inhibiting field has been put up over this area that will prevent our transporters from operating without the aide of the communicators to provide a fix on our location. Interesting, since the Adnalons do not use transporter technology and would not likely know how to subvert it."

"And they removed their communicators." Jean-Luc glared at the clicking magistrate. "What do the Romulans want? What is this? They could have simply attacked our ship -- you could have given them permission to do that."

"Apparently Sela wants you, Captain," Deanna said. She'd regained her composure but fear still lurked in her eyes. "The attempt at Zanzibar was suspect -- we never did uncover anything in the dig that might have been of interest to them. It must have been you. Which means you cannot go out in that garden to negotiate."

"Negotiate? Are these people likely to do that, if they have only one goal?" deLio asked.

"There aren't any Romulans out there. Allies, yes -- am I correct in assuming, magistrate, that these are members of a different faction, one not represented at the meeting? You're still undergoing civil difficulties, aren't you?" Jean-Luc's questions had no impact; the sauroid rocked, hands still on his head.

"Most noble, will you help us rescue our people?" Deanna asked. "The Romulans must have made their treaty with the other faction -- are you afraid of reprisal, or are you actually cooperating with this effort?"

"Too many question," Doghli exclaimed.

Jean-Luc dropped to one knee in front of him. "Are you part of this deception?"

"I did not wish it. I wish you had not come at all, I wish I had could warn you -- " He returned to his frenzied clicking for a moment and steadied himself. "I have nothing. Others in my house will not help you. The spikes and the Romulans would retaliate and we have no alliance with your Federation, you would not protect us. We want no more fighting."

"Could the Adnalons in the garden be persuaded to give up the hostages? Is there anything we could tell them that would convince them to side with us?"

Doghli wagged his head woefully. "They will be fearing. Spikes live on outermost colony -- they are the first to be overtaken if Adnalon space is invaded. They were that fearing that they allied themselves with Empire. They do not believe the Federation would be able to protect them. Most noble, I am to inform that you are to surrender self to them and they will release ambassadors. If you do not do so now they will kill them."

"Magistrate," Jean-Luc paused to steady himself so he wouldn't sound furious, "why didn't you warn us of this?"

"They would have heard! Outside they would have heard, and killed all -- if they kill a member of my house it will start another war. My house would all die! We are too weak from fighting last war! This house is mine, they will not come inside against agreement, but if you do not go out they will kill them. We could not prevent their presence outside, the terms of our agreements with their faction are so. I could only comply or die. I wanted all of you to come inside, I could protect you -- my house wants alliance with the Federation. Sorry sorry sorry. . . ." The magistrate banged his head against the wall, breaking chunks out of it with his frill, which had turned black.

Jean-Luc left the room, the away team tailing him down the broad corridor. No sense in trying to dissect the magistrate's alien motivations for allowing this to happen; it was fairly obvious everything he'd done made perfect sense to him. At the moment recovering the ambassadors and his officers became the priority, and there wasn't time to discuss the nuances of Adnalon culture. The Romulans were involved. Federation intelligence hadn't hinted at the Adnalons' rigid way of thinking.

Mendez said, "They outnumber us. What can we do if there isn't a way to transport?"

"We could have extra security beam in outside the field," deLio said. "Reconnoiter on the garden area and overtake them."

"There's no time," Deanna said. "They're very determined and set on one course of action. The Adnalons see things in dichotomies -- Doghli saw no other options than what he told us. He was very clearly convinced he did all that he could do to protect us. The longer we wait, the more people die, and there are only four of them."

"deLio, Mendez, take two people and flank the gardens," Jean-Luc said. They reached the bottom of one of the long swooping ramps ending on the ground floor; Adnalons didn't appear to use stairs. "Work your way through the shrubbery until you're close enough for maximum efficiency of the phasers. Heavy stun." He stopped behind a lattice that ran the length of their end of the garden and filtered the yellow-white sunlight into an area filled with furniture. Before he could finish giving orders, Deanna dodged through furniture to the open gate in the center of the lattice and ran into the garden itself. Something clattered along the tiled floor as she left -- her phaser. Jean-Luc's heart leaped into his throat, rendering him speechless.

_Get back here, Commander!_

She either ignored him or was too caught up in whatever she was doing to hear. Their ability to communicate by thought in words had an extremely short range, and she already ran beyond its boundary, leaping shrubbery and racing toward the group in the center of the garden. Jean-Luc watched through the lattice, fuming, then caught himself and sent deLio and Mendez out as planned.

She approached the hostile Adnalons, arms outstretched, slowing to a walk. The impulse to dash out there himself almost overwhelmed him. She'd obviously done this to prevent that necessity, however, and as several of the sauroids aimed their weapons at her he stifled panic and focused on the mission, on his officer being too heroic for her own damn good. One of the spikes came forward and pawed her roughly, obviously looking for weapons. He found nothing -- not even the communicator. She said something to them --

Something didn't make sense. The sauroid responded, his long jaw moving, and then she replied to that. She had to still have her communicator to translate, but where had she hidden it? He had to go out there.

His motion toward the gate halted by a shout from Lwaxana, he peered again through the lattice, dropping the phaser into his palm. One of the spikes had struck Deanna in the back, throwing her roughly into the hostages. Lwaxana embraced her tearfully. The group huddled in a small knot and lowered her to the ground. She rolled, sat up, then the huddle tightened around her, the two Adnalon ambassadors sitting apart and looking on, blue-frilled and fidgeting. While the spikes conferred and one of them began to shout for Picard, Deanna took the hands of the security officers, and Lwaxana gripped her arm and Telor'set's hand. A pained expression on her face and tears streaming, Deanna stared in Picard's direction and tapped her chest where her badge had been.

Jean-Luc tapped his comm badge. "Enterprise, can you get a transporter lock on the away team?"

"Data here, sir. We have transporter lock on all members of the away team."

"That's a false reading. The ambassadors and two security officers no longer have their badges. There are five people at Deanna's coordinates. Emergency beamout, her signal first, followed by the rest of us sixty seconds later. Engage."

She had indeed managed to hide the communicator. The hostages vanished in a swirl of particles. A moment later, the transporter pulled him away, as he watched the spikes mill around in confusion and begin to shout.

The instant the transporter let him go, he stepped off the pad. "Bridge -- yellow alert. Take us back to Federation space, warp three. Chief deOrda, where is the rest of the away team?"

The L'norim transporter chief looked up from his board. "The counselor was coughing up blood. I transported them directly to sickbay without delay."

Jean-Luc noticed then the spatter of red across the floor. His breathing stopped momentarily; he left the transporter room, inhaling at last as he reached the lift. deLio shadowed him, and Mendez, the other security officers apparently having been dismissed when he wasn't paying attention to them. A moment passed in the lift as he turned on the sharp edge of panic. He felt a sudden stab of pain in his chest and the distant throb of anxiety -- she'd let go, now that they were all safe, loosened her control that kept fear and pain secondary to duty. Taking a deep breath, Jean-Luc pushed down his reaction to it.

"Bridge." deLio stared at the doors, calm and apparently relaxed. Mendez cleared his throat quietly. Another long moment of composure-gathering passed. Jean-Luc tapped his comm badge. "Picard to sickbay -- how is Commander Troi?"

"Mengis here, sir. She appears to have swallowed her communicator. We are preparing her for surgery. There has been significant damage to her esophagus and larynx." As the doctor spoke matter-of-factly, Lwaxana's hysterical tones could be heard in the background, lambasting one of the medical staff, apparently. Telor'set's husky baritone rose and fell a few times as he tried to calm her.

"Thank you, Doctor. Let me know when she's out of surgery and able to receive visitors. Picard out." 

"An excellent strategy, sir," deLio said. "Removal of the hostages with no discharge of weapons. Negotiations with the more agreeable factions of the Adnalons may yet be possible, if the Federation so chooses. By sending her unarmed, you minimized the danger of her simply being shot rather than becoming another hostage."

Jean-Luc eyed the security chief. "Why do you assume she went on my order?"

"She did not hesitate. I have noticed that in some of the command simulations we have been running for her, she often does when there are many possible ramifications of her actions."

"I didn't hear an order," Mendez said.

"Commander Troi is Betazoid. I have noticed on occasion that she has apparently communicated with the captain telepathically."

Jean-Luc stiffened, trying to remember occasions where deLio might have ascertained that bit of information. Then the red alert klaxon went off.

The lift doors opened; he moved slowly onto the bridge, gaining momentum as he went. Data rose and surrendered the center seat to him.

"We are tracking a fleet of ships, sir," the android said. "Six Romulan warbirds. They are overtaking us. I have ordered our velocity increased to warp seven."

"ETA to Federation space?"

"Approximately twenty minutes, sir. I take it the negotiations did not go well?"

Jean-Luc took his seat and composed himself. "Not one of our better experiences, Data."

 

* * *

 

Natalia remained at her station with her focus on the status of the engines, specifically the injectors and the antimatter-matter ratios. The pulse of the warp core became a throb nearly as fast as her heartbeat.

Red alert meant the diplomatic mission hadn't gone well. Behind her Commander La Forge rapped out orders in his all-business command voice, keeping tabs on all systems. At her right, Batris stood overlooking the main console calmly. He glanced at her, ventured a tight smile, and returned to scrutinizing the board. Like most good engineers, he tended to be too caught up in specs and theories. Largish nose, short straight black hair, angular features. Though he was human, he could've been Vulcan with minimal prosthetics. When the ship went on alert especially -- he usually went solemn and unemotional.

Briggs hurried over. Running her fingers through her short blond hair, she glanced across the console as if afraid of what she'd find and looked up at Natalia. "How can you be so calm? This could be it, it could be war. The Adnalons aren't far removed from the Neutral -- "

"What good would it do to panic?" Natalia asked.

"Greenman! Watch the phaser relays," the commander called.

Natalia turned on her heel and went to the appropriate console. She brought up the latest readings. "All systems functioning to spec, sir."

"Batris, prepare to reroute power to shields when we need it. Briggs -- "

The first officer's voice interrupted. "Commander La Forge to the bridge."

La Forge looked around then headed for the door. "On my way. Batris, you're in charge. Greenman, fill in for him."

The specific assignment startled everyone, judging from the wide eyes. Taking Batris' place at the main console, Natalia ignored the stares from Briggs and Pleasance. Batris ordered Briggs to monitor the phaser relays and the shields, put Pleasance on the intermix readouts, and waited for orders.

When they stood down from red alert fifteen minutes later without further incident, Natalia let out a sigh and leaned on the edge of the console. Batris smiled at her again. "Glad that's over with."

"So am I. Wonder if we'll ever find out what it was about?"

"Probably not," Pleasance said. He swaggered over to Briggs -- the two were obviously lovers, had been for a few months now. Natalia didn't care for him; the blustering bulky type had never appealed to her. Rodney Pleasance had been on the football team at the Academy and had an ego the size of San Francisco. Good-looking, yes, but he knew it too well.

"The mushroom crew, that's us," Denise Briggs said. "In the dark and eating shit."

Natalia glanced at Batris. He wasn't a command trainee, and obviously felt uncomfortable when La Forge put him in charge. It didn't happen often, but when it did, these two ensigns seemed to take the opportunity to indulge in teasing and idle chatter, and occasional irreverent remarks.

"You're on duty," Natalia said. "You should pay more attention to your post. We could go back to red alert in seconds."

Pleasance mumbled something and Briggs laughed harshly. "Got that right." She reached up around Pleasance's thick neck and kissed him, open-mouthed.

"Man your posts," Batris exclaimed.

The couple remained lip-locked a few moments longer. Natalia couldn't believe the arrogance -- Briggs wasn't this way when Pleasance wasn't around. They parted at last. Smirking, Pleasance went back to intermix and Briggs turned around.

Beta shift engineering staff arrived on time, but Batris remained. Natalia decided to do the same, though her relief took her place at the console. La Forge returned to engineering almost half an hour later. "Everything all right here, Batris?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You're dismissed. Greenman, what are you doing here?"

"Could I speak to you a moment, sir?" She met Batris' hazel eyes intently.

"I'd like to speak to you also, sir," the lieutenant said reluctantly.

La Forge jerked a thumb toward his office and preceded them into it. He crossed his arms after he sat down, and looked across his desk at them. "Well?"

Natalia looked at Batris. He glanced at the floor, then forced his eyes up to meet the commander's. "Sir, I've been having some difficulties with Pleasance and Briggs. It's not been anything you could write them up for, just some chatter when things are quiet and you leave me in command. But we'd just stood down from a red alert, and it wasn't just chatter this time. Pleasance left his post and was kissing Briggs, which distracted her from her own duty station. Ensign Greenman and I both suggested they return to their posts, and Natalia pointed out that we could be back on alert any time, but they were slow to obey and disrespectful."

The commander didn't react right away. After a moment's consideration, he looked at Natalia. "Do you have anything to add, Ensign?"

"No, sir. Lieutenant Batris summed it up pretty well."

"Thank you for telling me. I'll get back to you on this later. Dismissed." La Forge turned and brought something up on his console.

On the way into the corridor, Batris slowed and glanced sidelong at her. "Want to grab a bite to eat? I'm starved."

Natalia did a double-take and smiled. "Sure. I'm buying."

He laughed, even though it was probably the most tired joke in the book, and matched her pace on their way down to the lift. "So what's the deal with the captain?"

"What?" she blurted, veering away from him. He touched her arm, snatched his hand back, and put his hands behind his back, shrugging nervously.

"Hey, don't get all excited. I've worked with you long enough to know better than to believe idle gossip, but there's usually some grain of truth they extrapolate from. You ate lunch with him the other day -- aren't very many ensigns around who get that kind of attention. Sure, he plays pool in the tournaments, but he never asks any of the rest of us to lunch -- and you haven't been to the tournaments, even."

"I don't know. He's just nice to me -- I don't think he'd treat anyone else any differently, if they'd quit pissing in their shorts and treat him like a real person off-duty. It's not like he stops being the captain, he's still very much that. How could he not be? I was talking to the counselor in the hall, and he came up, and the next thing I knew we were eating lunch. We just talked about careers."

The lift carried them to deck ten while they talked. Batris watched the readout winking at them. "That was some altercation in the corridor earlier with the ambassador."

Natalia eyed him warily. "I don't think I'm that hungry, after all."

They stood in uncomfortable silence until the lift opened. Batris met her gaze, eyes begging. "Look -- I'm just trying to make conversation. I'm sorry if that was a sore subject. I wasn't trying to be nosy, really, it's just the only thing other than engineering -- Can we start over?"

She didn't answer. Whatever the answer was, it stuck in her throat.

"Natalia, please?" He ran his fingers through his hair and left his elbow sticking up in the air. "I'm no good at this. You know me, I live in engineering and at the pool table."

"You were one of the ones who got caught playing pool in engineering, weren't you?" The lift closed and started to move again. They ignored it. "Is that why you were so reluctant to say anything to the commander, you have a prior record of trouble making?"

"I guess so. Thanks for the nudge. I'm just no good at taking control."

"It takes practice, like everything else. I've just had an earful of how to do it, that's all. I don't think Commander La Forge will hold your mistakes against you, either. I've noticed they give you second chances on this ship, if it's obvious you're doing your best. At least you didn't have an ambassador trying to -- "

The lift opened on the bridge. To her eternal dismay, the captain walked in. He glanced at the two of them and smiled faintly, but looked preoccupied.

"Good evening, sir," she said. Batris seemed nervous, shifting his weight subtly.

"Good evening, Ensign. Lieutenant." The greeting seemed to bring him out of preoccupation. "Sickbay."

Natalia wanted badly to ask if everything was all right, and wondered if the counselor had been on the away mission with him and encountered some mishap. Diplomatic missions seemed to be the sort of thing she'd be included in. It could be any other crew member, however, she supposed -- he'd probably visit one of them just out of professional concern, if not friendship. But Natalia tucked her hands into the small of her back and stood at attention, keeping her eyes focused on the floor, somewhere around the toes of his boots.

"Everything all right, Ensign?"

She raised her eyes. "Yes, sir. We were just going for dinner. Something about being on alert makes you hungry, I guess."

"Strange, it always has the opposite effect on me." He paused, noting the readout. "You've overshot deck ten."

"Maybe the computer realized the captain's destination was a priority," she said.

He chuckled, surprising Batris, and said, "Still wearing those tight boots, are you?"

"Haven't had time to change them, sir."

The lift door opened. He paused on the threshold and glanced at Batris. "Be careful, Lieutenant." He strode off and let the lift close.

"Wow," Batris exclaimed. "That was. . . different."

"In what way?"

He shook himself out of it and gave the computer deck ten again, and grinned. "You're too quiet, you know that? I wouldn't have guessed you could talk to the captain like that -- or anyone else, for that matter. And... boots?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story...."

 

* * *

 

 

Jean-Luc strode into sickbay. Mengis came out of his office at the same time and greeted him, unsmiling as always. "The commander is in the intensive care ward -- for privacy, not out of medical necessity. Her mother and Ambassador Telor'set are with her."

"I'm sorry if the ambassadors got in your way. I would have been down sooner, or sent Commander Data to handle them, but we had a rather urgent crisis. How is the commander?"

"It was a short, simple process to repair the damage. I am giving her the rest of the day to rest. She should be well enough to return to duty tomorrow." Mengis' green eyes looked vaguely accusing. "I sincerely hope this does not become a trend."

"The circumstances were unusual, Doctor. I believe she was merely trying to hold it in her mouth."

"Don't let her try it with a phaser." Mengis led him into the ward, in the rear of sickbay around a partition, and left him there. Lwaxana stood near one of the beds next to Telor'set, both of them watching Dr. Selar peering down Deanna's throat and scanning. Deanna wore one of the blue sickbay robes, but was sitting up.

When Jean-Luc approached, Lwaxana went on alert but hesitated when he held up a hand. "Ambassadors, my apologies for the disastrous way this mission unfolded. I have just spoken to Command -- there was nothing in the briefings we received that might have indicated something like this could happen. The matter will be investigated." As he spoke, Selar closed her tricorder and left swiftly, probably too aware of the impending storm.

"I can tell you exactly what the problem was -- those horrible creatures were working for the Romulans," Lwaxana exclaimed. "Honestly, Jean-Luc, what were you thinking, sending Deanna out there unarmed and all by herself?" She would have continued. She poised herself to do so, ready to gesture and scold, but for some reason she stopped herself, looked at Jean-Luc as if he could answer some question she hadn't asked.

"We should move to the observation lounge for debriefing," he said. "Tomorrow morning. The commander and I will both be there."

Telor'set was already in motion, heading for the door. "I will see you in the morning," he said, to all of them apparently.

Lwaxana took a step toward her daughter. She seemed to be torn -- anguish, concern, fear, all plain to see in her face. But she also turned and left the ward. It was almost a shock to see her go without a word.

Jean-Luc exhaled at last. When he turned back to Deanna, she was watching him with tears streaming down her face, her shoulders hunched forward.

"Cygne," he said, rushing forward. 

She was crying in earnest, as he put his arms around her. He'd never seen her this upset before. She shook and clutched his uniform. Within minutes she sat up again, and took a deep breath. "I need clothes," she mumbled.

"Dee," he said, trying to catch her eyes. He caught her arms as she slid off the bed to her feet. "Wait. Look at me."

She did finally, and her black eyes were still glittering with tears. Her makeup was a mess. "I just want to sleep."

He thought about the situation, about Lwaxana -- she had left them without a word, had behaved very oddly, and he wondered what had been said telepathically to prompt such behavior. He would have expected her to be her usual smothering self, with her daughter in sickbay. And then decided the conversation about it could wait.

"Let's go home. I think you earned a few hours to recover."

 

* * *

 

 

Natalia headed to her quarters after spending a few hours unwinding in Ten Forward. Batris had been easier to talk to than she'd thought. She had lost track of time, for a while. She hummed a little as she entered the turbo lift. She found herself face to face with Ambassador Troi, in a beautiful gown and looking down at the floor with the saddest expression Natalia had seen in a while.

"Hi," Natalia said, surprised.

"Oh, hello dear," Lwaxana exclaimed happily. "As I was saying -- have you ever been in a mud bath?"

Natalia stared at the woman and wondered whether she had gone to the planet after all -- hadn't the mission just ended in a red alert and rapid retreat? "I haven't, no. I'm going to go back to my quarters now."

"Oh, but they're so relaxing! You really should come with me and try one," the counselor's mother cried with great enthusiasm. "It's such a good way to unwind from the stress of the day.  Let's go see about a holodeck, shall we?"

"No, thank you," Natalia said. "I really do have to go."

The lift opened on deck nine, and she was almost out in the corridor when Lwaxana said, "Do you think she's a good psychologist?"

Natalia hovered, one foot out, one in, her presence keeping the lift stopped and the door open. "Um. You mean Counselor Troi? I think she's very good. I mean, I've had other counselors, and some of them are just there -- they say words but you know they don't really care. I know she does, because she just shows it. And she respects that I have a choice in whether I really want to get better. I think she understands that just expecting me to do whatever she says doesn't work unless I do want to be better. She waits for me to be ready to take the next step, and when she can tell I am she pushes me to do it. Unless I say no, and then she backs off for a while and brings it up again later."

Lwaxana covered her mouth with her hand and seemed upset by that. But she let it drop and gave Natalia a brittle smile. "I see. Thank you. I really am proud of her, you know? I never would have -- I -- " It was obvious something was going on with her that she was struggling through. But she rallied again, brushing away tears with her fingers. "Carry on, Ensign."

Natalia turned and went down the corridor, tired and deciding to wonder what that was all about later.

 

* * *

  

Jean-Luc was getting himself something to eat when Deanna came out of the bedroom. She had put on his robe and seemed half-awake. "Feeling better? Would you like something?"

"I'll get myself something," she said. When she came to sit at the table with him, she had a bowl of soup. So that likely meant her stomach was upset, probably because of the anxiety of dealing with her mother. "Anything changed?"

"No, we're waiting for a response from Admiral Nechayev. Nothing from the Romulans. Your mother is in her quarters so far as I know."

"What have you been puzzling out, then?" She ate soup, and it was obvious that she'd been paying attention to his emotions.

"I have been thinking about your mother. About the time we were trying to help her, when she was stuck in memories of your sister's death. Thinking there must have been more to it."

Deanna closed her eyes, and the pain in her face made him regret it. "There is. I didn't go into great detail at the time, out of respect for her privacy. Also because I didn't know much at the time. You and I read some of her journals but they only tell part of the story."

He hesitated to say anything further. He already felt in over his head.

"She lost her mother at a young age," Deanna said, opening her eyes. "I know it's a blow to a human child, but it's terrible for a Betazoid. Parents are the first bond we have. Our bond with our mother starts in the womb. Parents help us develop telepathic abilities. She struggled with the loss, and then married the first man who came along. The relationship went nowhere and they parted ways within two years. Then she met my father. They were so close, and he had a posting on Betazed that allowed them to be together while they had children. They lost Kestra and it sent Mother into a depression that lasted for months. My father begged her to get help. He finally told her he would take me and leave. He was afraid her mood, her emotional distress, would affect me. At that point she got up and started to delete every hint of Kestra from her life. Then she wanted to have another child, but Daddy kept telling her that wasn't the way to deal with her pain. Eventually he took an assignment that meant time away, things were so strained between them. I learned from cousins about all of this, after what happened -- after we found about Kestra. She still wouldn't really talk to me about it but she gave me permission to talk to others."

"I've heard that losing a child can be hard on a marriage. I can only imagine what it must be like, to be telepathic and bonded, and suffer a loss like that." He took another bite of his salad. 

"Mother managed to talk Daddy around to coming back to Betazed. Things were improving between them. So he was waiting for approval for the transfer when he died in the line of duty," she said, saddened by the thought. She took a moment to sip a spoonful of vegetable soup. "It nearly crushed us. My cousins were over constantly, trying to convince her to get out of bed, do something. I was so confused and hurt. I spent a lot of time with my grandfather. He only communicated telepathically. He and Mother would have long conversations, but Mother would resist his efforts to get her to talk about Daddy or about her depression. And he wasn't well, either. We lost him a couple of years after Daddy died, and she mourned him as well."

Jean-Luc lost interest in his salad, thinking about the strain of such a situation on a sensitive child. He watched her gazing into her soup sadly until she continued.

"She started to try to be better," Deanna said with a sigh. Sitting back in the chair, she hugged herself. "She actually went to her doctor, who sent her to a counselor. I don't know how long she went. From my perspective, I saw her start to be what she is today -- a social butterfly. As a teen I became an empath and sensed more of what was underneath, and we had some horrible arguments -- I finally went to counseling myself and started my own work, initially to get help in how to deal with her and eventually to save myself, then I decided to go into the field. All the times I have suggested or encouraged her to get counseling, she's dismissed me out of hand. She didn't like my choice to be a psychologist but eventually stopped commenting on it. I thought we had a real breakthrough when she recovered the memories of Kestra, we actually started to talk for a while without the forced cheerfulness and continual tangents, but the next time I saw her she was back to giddy and dismissive, vacillating between the distractions she gives herself and actual happy moments. Over the last few years Mother's usual joy in living seems almost forced, as if she is struggling to keep it up. And the more I think about all of this, the more I see that what she is now is another version of her original solution, to just live in denial and focus wholeheartedly on chasing pleasure and laughter."

Jean-Luc realized he too had crossed his arms, and had started to wander through his own changes, over the past few years. Thinking about Robert's death had at times led him down the road of regrets and mourning, of stubborn opinionated behavior and losses that meant he had no opportunity to ask forgiveness. "I thought I was the only one in the galaxy who cornered the market on denial."

Deanna moaned, shaking her head. Smiling just a bit at his self-deprecating comment. "You don't understand the depth of the problem. But she isn't your responsibility to understand. Nor is she mine. I can understand, but I'm her daughter -- she hasn't listened to me. She does once in a while concede that I am right about something, but she doesn't do anything about it. She'll go back to denying it. Tells me I'm her child, her little one, and pretends that I didn't leave home at sixteen and go to live with our cousins for three years while going to school, that she was present and nurturing for the years that she spent wandering in heartbreak. She paints sunshine into her memories of me."

"I have the impression she wants to live in the sunshine on an ongoing basis regardless of the weather. You have far more patience than I had anticipated," he said, quite seriously. "She has been nothing but condescending and at times arrogant to you."

Her sad, sad smile was almost heartbreaking. "I don't have it in me to reject someone who is as she is because of the tragedies she has been unable to handle. She did her best not to break, when she realized that I needed her not to break. And the more I help people who have gone to the verge of breaking to come back, the less angry I can be at her. Especially since I learned these things about her."

"But if she chooses to not come back, not change? How many chances does she get to come back before you get tired of being treated like a child?"

Deanna's desolate expression said this was not an unfamiliar question. "I don't have an answer for that. But I won't let her interfere in our relationship. She knows that I am serious about that."

Jean-Luc took what was left of his meal to the replicator and returned with a glass of synthale. "What was she saying telepathically in sickbay?"

She frowned at him. "Nothing. Why?"

"You were in tears. I thought she must have said something terrible."

Comprehension flooded her eyes. "She was feeling a horrible sense of guilt and fear, and failure. She's afraid. In my own state of pain and overwhelm I was really feeling her emotions."

He had a sense that she wasn't telling him everything, so he once again crossed his arms and waited.

"And it hurt, to hear her scolding you instead of being concerned about me. She's only been supportive when she's been able to feel that she has some semblance of control."

"I wish that I could help you deal with her. I can't think of what I could say to her."

Deanna gave him a look that suggested she wasn't thinking about her mother any longer. She pursed her lips as if trying to avoid a smile. "You do?"

"Family is family.  I ran from confrontations when I was young, I regret that. When you agreed to marry me I was committed to being your family, and making you mine -- do you see this differently than I?"

"No," she said. Her fond smile was reassuring. She drew up a knee, propping her heel on the edge of the chair, and hugged her leg. His robe was starting to fall off her shoulders. 

"So what do you think we should do now?"

She sighed and considered it, running her fingers through her hair and pushing it over her ear. "I always wait for her to start the conversation and then simply be honest. I won't let her draw me into long arguments or protracted back and forth about things I've made up my mind about. It seems to be the most sane way to be with her for any duration."

"All right. Since we aren't having a formal dinner tonight with the diplomats, what would you like to do? If it's sitting there, like that, I'm perfectly fine with this activity."

That resulted in her amusement, another approved-of activity. They moved to the couch, where she sat cross-legged instead. He fetched their current books from the shelf and sat next to her, passed her the hardcover she had been reading -- one of his antiques -- and settled in. After a few pages, she shifted position, to fold her legs beneath her and lean against him, prompting him to put an arm around her. It made it harder to read, but harder to care about reading.

Deanna's head came up a split-second before the annunciator let them know someone was at the door. Deanna stood up, setting aside the book, and shot him a look. She pulled the robe around her tightly, tying it shut, and sat down again. So obviously she could sense that this was not one of their officers.

"Come."

Lwaxana came in. For once, she didn't immediately start to chatter. She'd changed into a less ostentatious dress, a dark shining blue. "Deanna," she said, gesturing vaguely then clasping her hands in front of her as if trying very hard to keep herself still. 

"Please, sit down," Jean-Luc said, gesturing at the chair. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Lwaxana sat down and didn't acknowledge the offer. She cleared her throat softly. "I'm sorry that I reacted as I did when I came aboard."

"And I wish that I hadn't lost my temper," Deanna said. "But you shocked me, being so opposed to something I thought you would be happy about."

"I understand. You've always been such a serious girl -- "

"Woman," Jean-Luc put in, unable to let it pass. 

Lwaxana sat open-mouthed for a few seconds. "Yes," she said, with an odd deliberately-serious tone. She turned back to her daughter again. "I know you don't approve of my carefree approach to life, Little One. I just can't bring myself to dwell on things!"

"No one wants you to do that," Deanna exclaimed, then took a moment to temper her response. "You can be as carefree as you want. You should be happy -- I don't want you to be depressed or sad, or force you to feel any differently than you do. But it isn't fun to be told how I should feel or what to believe about things, and you do that every time you tell me I'm too serious."

Jean-Luc wondered if she'd ever told her mother that in such a direct manner before. Lwaxana's reaction was a flinch and an open mouth. "I would never!"

"Mother, you just told me that I'm too serious. You've said that to me since I was a child." 

"I only meant that I wish you enjoyed life more," Lwaxana said.

Deanna nodded, slowly, carefully, and said "I would like to know why you think that I don't enjoy myself enough. I really don't appreciate that you are so flippant about important things. For example, why you think that Jean-Luc isn't acceptable for me -- if you have no real reason to object to him, why are you objecting to our marriage?" 

At that, Lwaxana's mouth straightened in an angry, disapproving line. She glared at Jean-Luc. "I would like to talk to my daughter, alone," she said firmly. 

"No," Deanna said. "And if you do insist and he goes I'll simply tell him everything you say."

"Oh -- this is silly," Lwaxana chided, waving a hand dismissively. "We don't need a chaperone!"

"I don't want a chaperone. I want a partner. He agreed to be one," Deanna said. "If he's going to be family, why shouldn't he be here?"

Lwaxana wrung her hands and then tossed them up, shaking her head. "I was hoping you would just come home," she cried. "It would all be so much easier."

"What are you talking about?"

"I need your help. With Barin."

Deanna gaped at her, glanced at Jean-Luc, and sat up a little straighter. He understood her surprise -- whether it was the request for help or the expectation that she would be able to give it, it was extremely unusual for Lwaxana to ask. "What do you mean?"

"He's just such a -- well. He's an odd child. I hate to say it about my own son, but -- you have no idea, the things I've tried. He's so stubborn, so disobedient, I haven't been able to get him to do anything."

"Mother, there are plenty of people on Betazed who can help you," Deanna said wearily. "Plenty of psychologists and child specialists. You can get help any time."

Lwaxana was crying by now, holding both hands to her mouth. "He won't talk! He doesn't act like any child I've ever known," she wailed. "My own child and I feel so terrible about -- everything!"

Deanna left the couch to put an arm across her mother's shoulders, leaning down to comfort her. She glanced at him and inclined her head toward the bedroom. Quite relieved to be dismissed, Jean-Luc stood up and fled to the bedroom, as the details started to emerge with the sobs. He read for a while, then rolled over and turned out the light. 

Later, when Deanna woke him by coming to bed, he rolled over to reach out. She spooned in against him and almost purred. 

"She met the Tavnian she married at the embassy on Betazed, which I knew about, and had the child -- married someone else briefly to get away from him, per Tavnian custom, so the baby wouldn't be taken away from her. But now she is desperate because Barin is not reacting like a Betazoid child, or any other child she's handled before, and she loves children. At three he should be talking more. She went from concerned to worried to panicked, over the past year that he hasn't talked. The doctors say there is nothing wrong with him. She feels terrible. Evidently she tried to take Barin to doctors, psychologists, appealed to friends and cousins, all despite the shame she feels for all the difficulties she has with him. I asked her if she has considered letting his father take him after all. But she's so heartbroken by the thought of that -- it means she won't see him again until he's of age."

"Why do you think he's being so difficult?"

"I don't know, exactly. Mother didn't really think very much about the drastic differences between Tavnians and Betazoids until she had him. It sounds like he knows words but very rarely speaks. Apparently she's tried to ask but the Tavnians at the embassy no longer have anything to do with Mother because of the rift with her ex husband. Tavnians spend their childhood with the father, with no contact with anyone of the female gender. Maybe you can try to talk to him?"

"I'll think about it. We can talk in the morning."

  

* * *

 

Natalia left her quarters for her half shift on the bridge, at the helm for the latter part of Gamma shift. It was all quiet when she relieved one of the other ensigns and she checked over the helm, top to bottom of the protocol, completely by the book. All was well. She sat waiting for something to happen, checking everything again every fifteen minutes. 

They were traveling at warp four toward a starbase. Uneventful stuff. She started to run some sensor sweeps out of boredom, and alternated with status checks. An hour later, she noticed something new on the results of a basic sweep, and switched to something more focused. "Sir," she said, looking over her shoulder at Mr. Data.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"I'm picking up some chroniton particles in a routine sensor sweep."

"Mr. Glasson, perform long range sensor sweep -- look for any concentration of chronitons."

Within minutes, Data had called a yellow alert. The captain arrived minutes later, and took his seat. "Mr. Data?"

"Sensors are picking up chronitons in sufficient quantity and proximity to suggest that we may have a Romulan warbird shadowing us, sir," Data said calmly. 

"I see. Are we still on the original course to the starbase?"

"Yes, sir."

Natalia risked a glance at them. The captain looked tired, but alert. He was frowning, deep in thought about the situation. He looked at her suddenly, and her heart leaped at the thought that he'd caught her looking, but then he said, "Ensign, change course, fifteen degrees to starboard and increase speed to warp factor seven."

She did so, as rapidly as she could, then double checked her work. "Course laid in, sir."

"Engage."

The ship responded as it always did -- silently and immediately, the readouts changing in front of her, and she confirmed the new heading. 

"Mr. Glasson, sensors?"

Glasson, who was often Gamma shift ops, ran another sweep. "Nothing sir, no more chronitons."

The captain sighed audibly. "Commander, keep running sweeps. If they're clear for another thirty minutes cancel the alert and get us back on course, at sufficient speed to arrive on time."

"Yes sir."

After the captain left, it went as ordered. Data ended the alert, and they continued as before, on the original heading toward the starbase. At the end of the Gamma shift, as Lieutenant McCutcheon arrived to take over the helm, Natalia headed for the lift behind Glasson, who was relieved by Mr. Carlisle. 

"Good job," Glasson said, after the door closed and the lift was in motion.

Natalia glanced at him. Nolan Glasson was taller than she was, with curly chocolate-colored hair and light brown eyes. "Thanks."

"I'm hoping I'll pull a shift on alpha soon," Glasson said, as if they were routinely chatty. It was the first time he'd even spoken to her.

"I've subbed in once in a while -- it's not much different when we're traveling at warp," Natalia said. "The captain will spend some of the time in the ready room."

"Talking to admirals," he said with a grin. "I don't think I'll ever be a captain, but it's interesting work. What about you?"

"I'll have my own ship someday," she said, thinking about her uncle. "Yeah. I think so."

"I think I'll get some breakfast. Want to join me?"

Natalia shrugged. "I have a little time. Let's go."

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Deanna's soft question wasn't so irritating, but he hadn't slept well, and the red alert had shattered the possibility of sleep from four hundred hours on. He had already been to the bridge, spoken briefly to Nechayev to update her and schedule the briefing with her for eleven hundred hours -- going to breakfast with Lwaxana for the sake of speaking to the boy for themselves was the last thing he felt like doing. But he had committed to Deanna. This was part of being tied to someone, he told himself. He was certain there was nothing they could do, but they would try anyway.

When they entered the ambassadorial suite, Homn was placing dishes on the large oval table, in front of Lwaxana. She looked up and beamed at them, waving them over with both hands. "Oh, look, Barin, they're here! Won't this be fun?"

The boy was silent and unsmiling. It was almost eerie, how calm he was. Jean-Luc let Deanna sit next to him, and chose the chair across the table from them. They had reviewed what was in the computer regarding the Tavnians, who were relatively new Federation members. Jean-Luc had the impression they were intelligent, rational, and somewhat like Vulcans or other species with a tendency to keep many things about their culture to themselves, as there wasn't much in the database about familial traditions other than what they already knew. There was nothing to explain the practice of children being raised by the parent of the same gender without the other parent.

"So what was it this morning, when the alarms went off?" Lwaxana asked, dishing some food from the nearest bowl into another smaller bowl and passing it to Jean-Luc. She did the same and passed another to Deanna.

"The red alert? An anomaly on sensors," Jean-Luc said. "We will be at the starbase in a day. So what do you have planned today? Have you taken Barin to the holodeck yet?" He affected a casual tone, despite the unsettling stare from the boy. 

"No, but I believe that will be our destination after breakfast. Do you know you can go anywhere on the holodeck?" Lwaxana exclaimed with forced enthusiasm in her son's direction.

Barin kept staring at Jean-Luc. 

"Is something wrong, Barin?" he asked finally.

"Are you Tavnian?" Barin asked, in a high-pitched voice. "Tavnians don't have hair. You appear to have very little hair."

Lwaxana was so startled she almost dropped her spoon. She watched Jean-Luc with open mouth and wide eyes.

"No, I'm human." He thought about what he could ask that was benign and stood a chance of encouraging conversation. "Do you like uttaberries?" The bowl in front of the boy contained cereal that was full of them, and Jean-Luc had some as well. Deanna liked to sprinkle them in her yogurt and some of her desserts featured them prominently.

"No," Barin said. "Do you?"

"I like them more than I like blueberries, less than I enjoy raspberries, and about the same as blackberries." 

Barin tilted his head and appeared to be interested. A first, since he'd come aboard. Jean-Luc was aware of the odd stillness of Lwaxana, but ignored her. 

"I do not like yogurt either. It upsets my stomach," Barin announced.

"Oh, dear," Lwaxana blurted.

Jean-Luc saw the subtle tensing in the child. He glanced at Deanna -- she was frowning. Her eyes traveled from Barin to her mother to Jean-Luc.  _It can't be as simple as that. I know Mother is not always the best listener but surely...._

"What would you like for breakfast?" Jean-Luc asked. It seemed more logical to start there.

"I don't know."

"Barin, why don't you like the berries? Is it the taste, or do they upset your stomach as well?" Deanna asked. 

"I do not like the way I feel when I eat them," he said. 

"Why didn't you say anything, dear," Lwaxana cried, clearly wounded by this information. Deanna shot her a look of dismay, and Lwaxana put her fingers to her lips.

"Perhaps we should take this information to sickbay. Barin, how would you like to go for a walk," Jean-Luc said.

"Mother and I will come in a minute," Deanna said firmly.

"What is sickbay?" Barin asked.

For a child who had not been talking to his own mother, he was amazingly articulate. "A place we go when we have stomach aches, or other distressing symptoms. The doctor can help you." 

Barin tailed him out the door and walked next to him without any of the excess chatting or random excessive physical activity that Jean-Luc had come to expect of a child his age. They were walking into the turbolift when they heard the telltale pounding of a small human running, and Jean-Luc turned to see Lindy had once again escaped the school staff and asked the computer where the captain was. She had a way of taking advantage of those occasional moments when the caregiver of the moment was distracted by another child. She giggled as she raced up and grabbed him by the leg.

"Lindy, why are you not at school?" She was supposed to be in the nursery. He smiled at her, and glanced at Barin -- the boy stared at her with his expressionless calm, and said nothing.

"I wanted to see you." Lindy's high-pitched cheer and giggling was usually contagious. She grinned at Barin. "Hi, what's your name?"

"Barin. Why are you clinging to him like that?"

Lindy leaned back, looking up at Jean-Luc with a confused scowl. 

"Barin is new here, Lindy." Jean-Luc looked up at the young man hurrying down the corridor, giving chase. "It looks like Mr. Kelsey is here to take you back. I'll see you later."

"Are you coming to read to us?" She let go, standing back but hanging on to his pant leg with one hand. He'd promised to come for story time, one week, but not scheduled it yet. 

"Maybe next week," he replied, giving Mike Kelsey a nod as he leaned down to take Lindy's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Kelsey."

Barin watched them walk away with the same impassive demeanor as before. Lindy waved goodbye and kept glancing back and waving until she and her teacher vanished around the gentle curve of the corridor. Barin then looked up at him. "What was that?"

"Lindy is a human child," Jean-Luc replied, taking nothing for granted. "Have you spent any time with other children?"

"Mother tried to introduce me to Betazoid children. I didn't understand them. They are too loud and too chaotic."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow -- the situation was becoming clearer all the time. He decided to test a hunch. "Are all Tavnian children so calm?"

"Tavnian children are born with a basic understanding of language, and we learn new languages quickly, after we are two years old," he said. "We begin to speak after the vocal chords and the speech center of the brain are more developed. I also have some of the memories of my father, and his fathers before him. We are given these memories through genetic alterations that were done generations ago, and they begin to manifest themselves as we become more physically independent, able to walk and talk on our own."

"I see. So it must be confusing to you, that everyone around you is talking to each other about you, and not to you?" Deanna was coming down the corridor with Lwaxana; Jean-Luc kept his attention on Barin, holding up a hand to keep them from interrupting. 

"I have attempted to tell Mother that I do not require special treatment," he said. "I do not understand her at times."

Jean-Luc maintained his benign smile, looking up at Deanna and remembering his brief return to childhood thanks to the transporter. "Well, I understand what that can be like -- being treated as though you don't understand can be frustrating. The times you have tried to talk to people about this must have been very frustrating indeed -- Betazoid children and many other children of other species are not quite so functional very early in life, so adults tend to expect very young children to be unable to communicate well. And I wonder if you are speaking Tavnian, or Betazoid, or Standard? The Universal Translator that Starfleet uses is generally very good but I know that it doesn't work so well in some cases, especially when there are telepathic components to the language."

Lwaxana made an impatient noise, likely was about to protest, but Barin went on. "I can't speak Betazoid. I do not think I will be able to."

"That's all right, Barin," Deanna said. "Mother can speak Standard as well as I can. Let's go to sickbay."

"Are you really my sister?"

They entered the turbolift, and Lwaxana came in last, watching the little boy as if he were a changeling. Jean-Luc set the car in motion toward sickbay with a word. Deanna smiled down at him. "Yes. I had difficulty with speaking Betazoid when I was your age, too. You might be able to later."

"Tavnians aren't telepathic. I don't understand what that is like."

"Do you know why male Tavnians are raised by their fathers, and female by their mothers?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Oh," Lwaxana exclaimed, unable to keep still. "Jean-Luc, you can't seriously believe he would know."

Barin glanced at his mother in disbelief. "Because while we are born with many of the memories passed down from our fathers, there is a great deal more that we have to learn from them. We are taught many things by our fathers. We do not have a school -- we learn skills and other information from our parent, and there are many things we learn that are specific to our gender."

"It's different on Betazed. We learn from both parents, and we have schools as well," Deanna said.

The lift stopped and Jean-Luc led the way out of it. Barin stayed close to him, walking to his left, looking up at him. "Where are you from?"

"Earth. We have a similar situation -- very similar to Betazed."

"Barin," Lwaxana said sharply. Everyone stopped in the corridor and turned to look at her, including Barin. She wavered, but despite her flushed cheeks she went on. "All this time -- you could have spoken to me, because you understood things I have been telling you?"

"Not everything. Some things. I have been remembering more each week. The genetic modifications were designed to provide a slow accumulation of memories stored in the chromosomes." Which meant that the problem was on its way to resolving itself, with each passing week. 

Lwaxana was unhappy and apparently shocked speechless. Deanna started them moving again, into main sickbay. Dr. Mengis came out of his office as they entered. "Good morning," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"This is Ambassador Troi's son, Barin," Jean-Luc said. "A full physical is called for, I think."

"His father was Tavnian, and I wonder if Barin is having difficulties with some foods because he is a hybrid," Deanna said. 

"That would not be an uncommon issue for a hybrid. Ambassador, are you all right?" Mengis was noticing the distressed expression no doubt. 

"I'm fine," Lwaxana said loftily. 

"I'm going to the bridge -- we have a briefing in an hour," Jean-Luc said. He looked down at the three year old. "I'll see you later, Barin."

"Thank you, Captain," he replied, startling Mengis. 

"I'm going with the captain but we'll spend some time together later," Deanna said, leaning to touch the boy's shoulder. 

They didn't speak as they left sickbay, nor did they on the way to the lift. Once inside with the door closed and the lift on its way, Deanna started to laugh; it was contagious and as the lift stopped on deck one, they were trying not to chuckle when the door opened. Jean-Luc made it into the ready room before he started again.

"Oh,  _Mother_ ," Deanna said, starting to laugh and shake her head again.

"I need tea," Jean-Luc said, heading for the replicator. "I'm relieved that was not as difficult as expected -- at least she can stop feeling so terrible about it all, now."

"One for me as well, thank you. I'm sure she will feel better eventually...."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Jean-Luc glanced down the table at the ambassadors, at Deanna, all seated and watching the admiral. deLio sat across the table from them next to Data. The fleet admiral was there at the head of the table, holographically -- her pale blond hair swept up into its usual roll on the back of her head, her expression as set and forced-pleasant as ever. Pleasantries had been exchanged, and all but Data and deLio had visited the replicator for their beverage of choice. Nechayev had been asking questions about the reports they had all submitted, and so far it was a typical debriefing of a mission cut short.

"You said, Captain, that they had a fixed mindset that kept them from altering their course of action when the other faction came into play and the ambassadors were held at gunpoint?"

"Yes. They seemed, once committed to a particular course of action, incapable of changing their actions as the circumstances changed. They were unable to see any way forward other than complying with the other faction as they agreed to do."

Nechayev smiled across the table at the ambassadors. "Ambassador Troi, you mentioned the belief that the other faction of the Adnalons are working closely with the Romulans?"

"They were talking about it, and thinking very loudly about it too," Lwaxana said, without any of the hand-waving or hyperbole that Jean-Luc had come to expect from her. "The one who was holding Telor'set was talking to someone on a subspace channel."

"Commander Sela," Telor'set put in with a nod. 

"A name that I have heard a few times too many as of late," Nechayev said, her smile flattening into a grim line. "And clearly the warbirds were close -- fortunate that you were able to rescue the ambassadors and depart with such haste, Captain."

"No, not fortune -- Commander Troi did the expedient thing, to get the ambassadors to safety." Jean-Luc gestured toward Deanna, sitting between her mother and Telor'set. Lwaxana looked at her daughter with a warm smile. She was being unusually quiet, which was setting him on edge, waiting for the eruption.

Nechayev nodded as she gazed across the table. "You took a great risk. They might have killed everyone."

"They would have killed my mother," Deanna said calmly. "They were about to kill Lieutenant Franklin. They were obviously taking orders from Sela, who would have captured the captain if she could have."

"Previous encounters with Commander Sela did not end diplomatically, I know," Nechayev said, looking to Jean-Luc. "The Romulans have a reason to target you personally?"

He knew she was thinking about what happened on Zanzibar, as she had always been aware of anything and everything the crew of flagship of the fleet had done. "Whether the Romulan fleet as a whole or this particular commander, I am uncertain -- but you know as well as I that they do appear to have taken a particular interest in me."

"It could be that the Romulan government is seeking to shore up their own reputation with their populace," Deanna said, getting the admiral's immediate attention. "If there is as much unrest on Romulus as recent rumors suggest, it would be in their interests to prove that they are capable of defending Romulus, or that there is a credible threat to their space, in order to increase public support. The unification movement has continued and apparently grown stronger over the years Spock has been there."

"Possible," Jean-Luc said. "Though it's also within the realm of possibility that Sela wants to strengthen her own position. In any case -- I would recommend sending an invitation to the Adnalons for them to come meet Federation representatives within Federation space, if the Council wishes to pursue this any further without risk of a confrontation with the Romulans. A frank conversation with them about their involvement with Romulus would also be in order."

Nechayev gave it a stiff nod, and moved on. "Ambassador Telor'set, do you concur?"

"What little time we spent actually talking to the Adnalons who invited us, rather than the faction that attempted to kill us, seemed to indicate that they might be good allies, at the least. The other faction may be talked around if we can get help from the ones we intended to deal with to approach them." Telor'set smiled at Deanna. "The commander may have more insight than I, into the likelihood of this."

"She would?" Nechayev sounded genuinely curious.

"I am a mere telepath, and not a strong one," Telor'set said. "As an empath she has a better sense of whether what any of the Adnalons said that day might be true. So when we were greeted after we transported to the surface, and the leader extolled upon the ways he anticipated peace with the Federation being beneficial to all Adnalons, she would be most aware of whether he had exaggerated or lied about that."

"He didn't," Deanna said quietly. "But he was very stressed when the captain attempted to discuss the Romulans with him. He admitted what was going on, and expressed genuine remorse that he felt obligated to follow through."

"We'll take that into consideration. For now -- ambassadors, you will be taken to Starbase 275, where other vessels will take you to your next assignments.  You are dismissed. Captain Picard, Commander Troi, I would like a word with you after all others have cleared the room."

Jean-Luc had half-expected it, and gave the nod to Data and deLio. Lwaxana rose and followed Telor'set sedately, putting a hand to her daughter's shoulder on her way by. 

After the door closed behind the last person out, Jean-Luc turned expectantly to the admiral to find her waiting with a subtle smile, not her forced one. "About Romulus," she said. "Admiral Tessora informed me of your participation in a mission for Starfleet Intelligence."

"Yes, that was a few months ago now." Jean-Luc turned to Deanna, who took the hint. 

"I submitted a full report, Admiral. And we debriefed following the incident with Admiral Tessora. Did you have concerns?"

"I understand you also spoke to someone who claimed to be Admiral Felton."

Deanna exchanged an incredulous look with Jean-Luc, and eyed Nechayev with some trepidation. "We did."

"Glendenning told me about her interference. What did you tell her?"

"Admiral... I wonder if this is the best way to discuss this," Deanna said tentatively.

"I have a secure channel, and there is no one in my office. I understand your reticence but for all anyone knows this is still a briefing for a diplomatic mission."

Deanna nodded, agreeing with the admiral just the same, despite the reservations she obviously had. She would not of course be able to sense whether the fleet admiral was telling the truth or not. But Jean-Luc knew, because he had worked with Nechayev long enough, that she was straight Starfleet.

"I'm not sure that you do understand my reticence," Deanna said.

"I know that Captain Glendenning has been one of  _them_ for most of his career in Starfleet. However, there are a number of reasons that I remain less concerned about him. He informed me that someone impersonated Admiral Felton to obtain information from you acquired on Romulus."

Deanna regarded the admiral with a guarded expression, and Jean-Luc could guess what she was considering -- that he was not reacting to the admiral in a negative way, and Tom had been forthcoming with the admiral. That would determine her reaction. He was glad to hear she chose to be open.

"I don't understand why she chose Felton to impersonate, nor do I understand why I was selected for the mission to begin with, other than some notion that I could be recruited for the Section on a more permanent basis. Either way, she did not get the information she wanted." 

"She did not?" Nechayev leaned forward slightly, very interested in this.

"Captain Glendenning brought us a module with revised software. I gave the impersonator the module that I did not use. I gave the one with the information on it to Admiral Tessora."

That led to the most genuine smile Jean-Luc had ever seen on Alynna Nechayev. "Good. Did anyone ask you if you were interested in a career in intelligence work?"

"Admiral Tessora, but I do not see that it would be a good fit."

"I agree," Jean-Luc said. 

Nechayev reached to her right, and her hand vanished for a few seconds, then came back with a tea cup. "I am sending the  _Enterprise_ to meet with the Kertassilians. Detailed information will be provided to you shortly. It's a delicate situation, Jean-Luc, so I trust you will handle it with your usual finesse." Her blue eyes traveled to Deanna, still seated across the table from her. "The counselor's heritage may prove useful with them -- apparently, they are also telepaths."

"I'll do my best to be of service, Admiral," Deanna said. 

The admiral's smile was sincere, and she raised her cup to her lips as her eyes flicked down, taking in the ring on Deanna's right hand. Jean-Luc managed to be smiling again when she turned her head to him. "Did you find out who the impersonator was, after you discovered she was not Felton?"

This odd back-and-forth between subjects was disconcerting. Was the admiral debating with herself whether to continue answering questions about the Section? Jean-Luc was about to respond, but Deanna said, "Yes. We were able to use trace evidence, hairs and shed skin cells, to run a genetic ID -- her name was Caroline Gantz. There's no indication she was ever in Starfleet. The computer has no record of her ever leaving Earth."

"It begs the question of why -- certainly if there was a need for the information it could be had through legitimate channels," Jean-Luc said, leaning back a little in his chair. The cold coffee sitting in front of him had no appeal but he didn't want to disrupt the conversation to get another.

"If the information obtained on the mission was in the Intelligence system, you are correct, there was no need to come here to get it," Nechayev agreed, quite unexpectedly. "The other possibility would be that they wanted direct information about the Romulans."

"And the third possibility," Deanna said.

Nechayev was quiet for several heartbeats. "That they wanted information about the two of you?"

Jean-Luc drew upon his years of experience with admirals, and said nothing at all. Merely raised an eyebrow, and left the ambiguity as it was.

"That may be more likely. They could easily access the expatriated Romulans on Betazed, after all," Nechayev said. "Not out of the realm of possibility."

"But surely any information they would want is accessible -- as I understand it's generally Starfleet officers, who are recruited," he said, continuing to talk around the subject of the Section.

"The information useful to them for their purposes is sometimes not what's in the logs, or in your bio," Nechayev replied, bringing her tea back up for another sip. 

Jean-Luc sighed, then said, "Admiral."

She set aside the tea, her hand disappearing briefly, and folded her hands in her lap. "Starfleet does not interfere in the personal lives of officers. But perhaps you might consider for a moment, why so many experienced officers might actively discourage relationships in the same chain of command, without offering the full explanation of why."

"If they are trying to curtail recruitment efforts, why can't Starfleet simply disband them?" Deanna asked, and it was a fair point. Jean-Luc crossed his arms and waited for the answer.

Nechayev turned to him, her eyes serious. "Do you feel that the mission to Romulus would have failed if Glendenning had not been there?"

"The risk would have been greater, yes, but I have been questioning and continue to question why Deanna was selected to go in the first place."

Deanna was staring at the admiral now, with the serious gaze of someone who would rather be shouting. 

"I can assume only two possibilities -- I think you may have come to the same conclusion as well, that either they wanted to recruit her, or they wanted her to fail," Nechayev said quietly, shocking him to rigidity. "Depending upon how they view the situation in the Romulan Empire -- failure might start a legitimate war, success might result in another operative. I do not think they anticipated that Tessora would send you along."

"Admiral, if you are trying to tell us to be careful, I can assure you that we are," Jean-Luc said. "Do you have any further orders at this time?"

That gained him a sharp look from her, but it softened at once. She shook her head, gave him a wry little smile. "I hope you are not underestimating them."

"Nothing is gained by endless worry, Admiral. I have a job. I intend to focus on it rather than waste time worrying what anyone thinks of me."

"In the future, if you receive orders to engage in such a mission, I would appreciate it if you would contact me -- at this time, the Federation would be served best by having the captain of the  _Enterprise_ aboard his vessel, and on assignment. You have an excellent team of senior staff, and you operate most effectively when they are at your side, so I would like to hear about any suggested reassignments before they are implemented. I will be forwarding new orders to you shortly. You are to take two days of leave when you drop off the ambassadors. Thank you again, Commander Troi, for your initiative." 

And with that, the admiral vanished, leaving only the frame of holoemitters. Jean-Luc sighed audibly, picked up the coffee, and stood to take it to the replicator.

"You said once that the fleet admiral kept a close watch on the  _Enterprise_ \-- it didn't sound to me as though she knew we had been sent to Romulus," Deanna said. She watched him return with a fresh cup of coffee.

"I agree. Helpful to know she is open to having us check with her if we are given questionable orders." 

"She doesn't seem disturbed by the fact that they interfered in the mission," Deanna murmured. "In fact, it sounded as though she was not aware of it -- that suggests that it might not have been Starfleet's mission at all."

He sighed heavily, again. This was making him tired and cranky, as it always did when he had to think about some of the changes in Starfleet. "I would suppose that by the time one is a fleet admiral, any officer faced with such activity either turns a blind eye or simply accepts that a number of her contemporaries are involved in such activities. There is no mechanism by which anyone could stop them -- unless they commit crimes in the process and are caught doing so," he said, grimacing in distaste. 

"I promised Barin I would go to the holodeck with him after lunch. I have a few things to do before lunch. Do we need to talk about anything else?" She wanted to move on, and he wanted to go with her. But he looked at his officer again, considered, decided there was no more ship's business -- but there was something else he thought to be relatively urgent. Something that she should consider from the perspective of Commander Troi.

"Are you certain you want to marry a starship captain?"

She blinked at that, and did as he knew she would, considered the wording carefully. "Only if the captain is you."

"The fleet admiral agrees that it's likely they were assessing us. It may have been a veiled warning, but a warning it was, just the same. And the only way to win the game is not to play," he said, sighing, thinking of the wording in the charter. "The degree of latitude granted in dire Federation-threatening circumstances has historically been broad. And while I know more than many, I suspect that if I knew all of the threats against the Federation, I might also waver in my contemplation of the limited options available to us."

"Jean."

He heard the quiet desperation in her voice. "Wavering is not the same as capitulating. You don't like that I am not standing firmly on my principles, here. I'm not asserting that we should abandon our principles in the face of impending doom. I'm forced to admit that the behavior of others has proven time and time again, not everyone who swears to uphold the principles of the Federation follows through -- and not everyone even understands their failure. Perspective can change, over time. Admirals who previously were sticklers for regulations may see things differently now, in the wake of a war we almost lost. And we've known for a while that something else is happening."

She looked down and away for a moment. At times, he'd wondered if he wouldn't be better off simply retiring. This was yet another moment, feeling weary of the way Starfleet had changed, and she likely sensed this downward turn of mood.

"How are the cadets doing?"

Her eyes came back up. For a moment she lingered in pathos. "Fine." 

"Data tells me they are doing better than fine. He credits your refinements to what we had in place -- so there is hope."

"I hope so," she said. "I'd like to think there will be a Federation worth living in, for our children."

That was an unexpected shock -- though as he recovered from it, he could see exactly how she had gotten there, from the conversation in the transporter room when he'd revealed in an unguarded moment that he was willing to have children to now, today, looking at the state of things yet again and feeling overwhelmed. Inevitable too that Ressik came to mind -- the dying world he'd lived in, but only in his mind. Then he was projecting forward to a Starfleet that operated defensively rather than bravely exploring as they had done before, and the difference that would make -- post Dominion War, the Federation had a different attitude; he'd heard the fear in the news, and in the briefings with admirals. 

Deanna's attempts to shift focus, to rescue Starfleet one cadet at a time, had made sense. He'd been unable to invest much of his own energy in the idea, which she seemed to sense; lately he'd caught her deep in thought, but they'd been floating from moment to moment with each other, taking refuge in each other. He had resigned himself to making the best of things until it made sense to step down and find something in the civilian sector, or perhaps an ambassadorship.

But Deanna's downcast eyes were full of tears, and he started to think about a future with children, theirs, and what might happen to them in the Federation that seemed to be falling more than growing forward as it had done before. If there might be another Dominion War in the near future. Retirement would leave them in the hands of a next generation of officers who had seen family members killed in a war -- and that Section 31 was already actively moving in current events told him that something was about to start.

He sat up, putting his cup of coffee on the table and squaring his shoulders, as if it were a problem he could rectify by going out on the bridge and giving an order. Looked at her -- the commander in medical blue, and even the uniform was a sign of the times. Black and dark gray, with the blue undershirt, almost the opposite of the uniform they'd had aboard the Enterprise-D. Her eyes came up as she sensed the shift of his mood.

"There will be a Federation worth living in, if we have anything to do with it," he said firmly. 

Suddenly, the bond surged, and his ears burned as he lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds. Deanna was smiling like he was offering her the galaxy, covered in chocolate.

"Make it so," she said softly.

 

* * *

 

 

Natalia reached holodeck four and found that the door was locked open, as expected, and inside there was a beach. As she stepped across the threshold her feet sank into the sand and she looked up and down the long strand of yellow on the shore of a deep blue lake -- so she assumed, as there was no surf. The captain, of all people, stood facing the water, watching three small children splashing and giggling in the shallows. It was such an incongruous scene that she walked to him, was next to him before she thought about it, and then he was turning so she had no chance to gracefully back away or seem to be heading down the beach.

"Hello, Ensign," he said, turning back to the water. She noticed then that there were three other adults present, a little farther down the sand, seated in folding chairs. 

"Good afternoon. I didn't expect you to be babysitting," she said, grinning.

"It was story day, at the daycare," he said, as if it should be obvious to her how that correlated.

"I didn't know you read stories for the kids. Is that a volunteer thing? Because I like kids too."

He gave her that strange smile that she thought might mean he was amused, but also maybe fond of her. "You should talk to Malia Ching," he said. "She is in charge of the daycare."

"What was the story of the day?" 

He was definitely amused by that. "The Wizard of Oz. A very old tale of finding your way through the trials of the unexpected obstacles in life."

"Huh. I thought it was about a girl and her little dog lost in Oz, trying to get home. But I guess I could see it your way too," she said, trying not to laugh.

He had an expression that suggested curiosity, and unexpectedly he said, "Have you solved your problem?"

Natalia thought about the past few days since the discussion in Ten Forward. "Well. Sort of. I was overthinking it, like you said."

They were interrupted by the little girl, who splashed over to them, leaped up and down in front of the captain, and cried, "Uncle Captain! Come swimming!"

"I'm talking to Natalia, you see," he said, with some of the forced brightness in his tone that people would have with children sometimes. 

"You like swimming, huh?" Natalia said. "If you wait a minute I'll come swimming too, okay?"

The girl leaped up in joy and cheered, and fell down in the water, thrashing over toward her friends. Natalia watched her for a minute, then returned to the conversation. "If the Wizard of Oz is a metaphor, which character am I? Maybe I'm the scarecrow. Sometimes I feel pretty brainless."

"I would have thought Dorothy," he said, then paused, bowing his head slightly. "Although I do see the characters as typifying the different aspects of human nature -- we can be thoughtless, or heartless. Cowardly. And yet we can find a way to understand that we had the capacity to be brave, intelligent or empathic all along. Though for some of us it does take a journey of many trials to get there."

"Yeah. I get that. I'm working on it. If you have any more pointers I'd appreciate it."

She was a little more nervous as he gazed at her, but knew he must be thinking about it. Taking her seriously was a good sign, she told her jumpy little ensign nerves. The captain smiled, then, and surprised her further. "We are on our way to a starbase, to drop off the ambassadors. So you will report to the ready room tomorrow morning, ten hundred hours, and you and I will talk about your career in a more suitable setting. Unless you do not wish to do so -- it merely struck me that you were not afforded the opportunity as a cadet, and as I'm meeting with all the cadets one-on-one these days, it seemed fair to offer."

"I'll be there, sir. Thank you." Natalia caught herself and tamped down the grin. She turned at the sound of Ambassador Troi's cheerful encouragements to someone to 'just wait until you see it' and saw that Counselor Troi was arriving with her mother and a small child. The child was pale gray, and wasn't smiling. 

"There he is," Lwaxana exclaimed joyfully, reaching out with a hand to point him out. She wore a gauzy silver wrap that covered her body from shoulder to knee, yet also showed off that she wore nothing under it. The boy at her side wore a pair of shorts. Deanna walked with them, wearing a gray tank suit and a wrap-around skirt, her hair braided and a small bag dangling from her right shoulder. And then behind them came a handful of older children -- it was open holodeck day, and the school kids were usually the first to arrive. The little Sulamid whirled in, kicking up sand, spinning right by the Trois and coming to a stop beside the captain.

"Lana'hest," he greeted with a smile. He watched the rest of the children arriving, and even held up a hand with parted fingers to greet Sorahk, the little Vulcan. Natalia watched him be stiff and formal yet welcoming with each child, dropping to a knee to speak to the shorter ones briefly. Kenny, Malia's son, was loud and demanding, but accepted the gentle rebuff well. They were all dressed for swimming -- the ones that wore clothing, anyway, the Sulamid looked like a shimmering golden tassel. 

"Come on, kids, let's go swimming," the teacher said, sweeping her hands toward the water as if trying to scoop them in. The blonde smiled at the captain as she herded the older kids in to splash with the younger. 

"You see, you are good with children," Lwaxana cried, clasping her hands at her chest in excitement.

The captain was talking to Sorahk, and both of them turned to gaze at her with a calm, mildly-affronted stare. Then Sorahk noticed the solemn little boy at her side. "Hello," Sorahk said.

"Hello." The kid was as sober as his Vulcan counterpart, but then he smiled a little. "My name is Barin."

"I am Sorahk. You are new? I have not seen you in school."

"Barin is visiting with my mother," Deanna put in, touching the boy's shoulder. "I was going to teach him to swim, but maybe you would like to do it? I'm feeling a little tired today."

"That would be acceptable," Sorahk said. He turned to Barin. "Would you like to swim with us?"

Barin looked up at the captain, doubtful. The captain said, "Swimming is good exercise. And I believe you will find that Sorahk and Lana'hest are as different from the other children as you -- Sorahk can help you understand them better."

Natalia stared at the captain in shock -- but that very formal suggestion with all the big words seemed to help Barin, as the boy smiled and went with Sorahk, walking ever so carefully into the water. Lwaxana watched them with the same surprise, then shook her head. "Jean-Luc," she began.

The captain faced Lwaxana and gestured down the beach, away from the children and the onlookers. "Shall we?" 

She straightened -- but rather than say anything she walked in the direction indicated. The captain came away from the water and walked close, but not too close, alongside her.

Natalia watched the two of them leaving, noticed Deanna was doing the same, and shook herself out of it. "I guess I need a swimsuit. I thought today's simulation was supposed to be the forest on Risa, I was all ready to go for a run." She gestured at the sweats she wore. 

"You're right, but the captain requested a change." Deanna's eyes went to the kids -- the little girl was standing up shouting 'hey' at them.

Natalia turned and shouted back, "I'll be right back, going to get a suit." She turned up the beach. "Computer, I need a place to change and a swimsuit in my size."

A cabana materialized at the edge of the sand, at the foot of a dune. She reached it and glanced back. Deanna watched her with a smile, then turned to wade in with the kids. Natalia stepped into the small hut and plucked the tank suit off a hanger dangling from a peg on the wall. Time to play.

 

* * *

 

 

"You have changed, Jean-Luc," Lwaxana said, with a lilt in her voice that said approval and affection.

Jean-Luc almost rolled his eyes. "Generally that is what people do over time, is it not?"

"In some ways, I suppose," she said. "But you are better with children now. And -- "

When she was unable to continue, he finally turned his head to look at her. She had stopped walking, so he had to stop and turn slightly back toward her. Lwaxana watched him, he watched her, and it seemed they were both squaring off. In the distance the kids were laughing and splashing. 

"I have never been what you pretended that I am, and I would appreciate it if you could stop framing this as if I were stealing her away from you."

Lwaxana's head went up -- but for once, she didn't immediately respond. Her face fell and she smiled sadly. "I know. I know, Jean-Luc, that I can ask and plead, and she will never come home to me. I knew that before I knew about you. The more I wish my daughter loved me the less she seems to want to do it."

He turned away abruptly, rather than snap at her for that. Set his jaw -- thought about Batai, Meribor, all the little power struggles they'd waged through the years they were turning into the adults they became. And then himself, at sixteen, demanding to be free to apply to Starfleet Academy, and the heartbreak in his mother's eyes as his father argued with him. When he turned back, she was watching him with questions in her eyes. 

"Perhaps the problem is not that she does not love you, but that you are doing what so many parents do -- equating obedience with love."

Lwaxana laughed wildly at it, threw her head back, and for a moment it appeared she might revert to dismissive and condescending. But she folded her hands together in front of her and settled down again. "I  _am_ sorry, but you sound so much like her. We really do not need a primer on definitions, my dear."

"Then what do we need?" He took a moment to inhale, regroup, start again with a less strident tone. "It sounds like that's exactly what you need. You just said -- " But of course, that was irrelevant. The only way to win that argument was not to have it. "What is it that you really want?"

"Nothing, I suppose," she said, as if giving in at last to a situation that was hopeless. "If I say that I want her to come home, she's angry. If I say that I want her help, she tells me there are doctors on Betazed. I can't want anything, even if I don't expect it. And I certainly don't expect  _you_ to understand why a mother would feel this way."

"I understand why a parent would feel torn, between watching a child succeed and wanting them at home. I understand why you would feel a desire to protect her, but -- " The expression that flitted across Lwaxana's face registered and stopped his reassurance. Fear? Then again, Telor'set had said it himself -- the Diplomatic Corps had been very busy indeed. Lwaxana had obviously been busy negotiating and working on peace, since the end of the war. She knew, because she wasn't stupid or unobservant, that things had changed since the war. Then he thought about Betazed itself, and reports he had seen of the damage, the deaths, and the massive recovery effort.

"You're afraid that there will be another war, and she will be caught up in it," he said. "That there is more to come. You want her to come home because you think it's hopeless."

Lwaxana was so upset by that, but she did a remarkable thing. She cried, but smiled anyway. "Betazed is working so hard to rebuild, but there are so many people grieving losses. The invasion killed so many. When I accept assignments for the Diplomatic Corps, the admirals who brief us are different, feel different -- do you understand what it's like, Jean-Luc? Being telepathic in the Federation is so  _depressing_ and awful right now! Why wouldn't I want my family at home, with me?"

"Then you've answered your own question of why she doesn't want to come home," he replied, thinking of how quiet and sad Deanna had been after the day they had spent at the Fourth House, seeing Narviat and the other asylum-seekers to a new home. "Why an empath would want to be elsewhere. And perhaps she feels she is able to do something about it here?"

She stared at him, and he thought there might be pity in her eyes. It didn't help. He thwarted the urge to vent the anger at her, by remembering Barin, Lindy, and the other children playing in the water, laughing and shouting at each other not far away. A thought of having a child with Deanna's eyes was the final straw. Anger subsided, leaving him where he'd been just hours ago, sitting in the observation lounge after talking to the admiral. 

"I'm not going to give up," he said, not caring that she wouldn't understand completely. 

"Of course not," she said automatically. Her expression suggested she wasn't even thinking about what she said; her eyes were distant.

"Lwaxana," he prompted, when she seemed to have forgotten he was there.

"I failed my children," she said sadly.

"No," he said automatically. "Not at all. You have an intelligent and strong daughter, and Barin is apparently a typical Tavnian -- he's healthy and appears to be fine, by his father's standards as he relayed them. He doesn't hold any ill will nor does Deanna, and it hurts her to see you struggling."

"What do you know about parenthood?" By now, he'd come to view her disdain and dismissive behavior as the way she coped, so it was easier to push it aside.

"I had two children." He watched the kids playing in the water -- Natalia was picking up the smaller ones and flinging them out into deeper water. She straightened and then a large slide materialized nearby. She splashed over to it and started climbing the ladder, and Barin was one of the first ones over to follow her. 

"What?  _You_? Where are they?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. Lindy was climbing the ladder. She flung herself head first down the long wavy slope to plunge screaming into the water. "They're gone, and I do not regret any moment of having them. They had lives and they created the majority of those lives themselves, because that's what children should do." He ignored the knot of angst in his chest, thinking about Meribor and Batai. 

Lwaxana made a distressed sound that tore his attention from the inner world of which only he had any awareness, and he saw that she was staring at him in horror. "It's so horrible, to lose a child," she whispered. 

"It's horrible to live every day wrapped up in pain and never moving through it, away from it, to better things, so you can be with the people you love fully," he said -- realizing that he'd just summed up so much of his life in a sentence, and it was almost distressing to have the moment of clarity that came with it. He turned and found himself meeting Deanna's eyes across the stretch of sand; she was standing on the beach now, wringing her hair and watching him instead of the children on the slides -- Natalia had asked the holodeck for another, this one a taller corkscrew. She started to walk toward him. The bond felt like a band pulling them together.

He didn't recognize he was walking until they were toe to toe, standing close enough to touch. He saw that she was crying -- sensing everything that was going on with her mother and with him, no doubt. He thought about all she had told him about her mother, and Lwaxana's endless pursuit of happiness.

"You paint my life with rainbows," he said.

Her reaction had exactly that effect -- she beamed at him, and raised her arms, and he did not care at all that anyone else was in the holodeck. When they parted after long moments in each other's arms, as the heart fire ebbed again, he noticed Lwaxana had joined them and stood beaming at them.

"Welcome to the family," she said simply.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm sure she was reassured when she saw how very happy you made me," Deanna said. 

Jean-Luc whipped off his jacket and tossed it in the general direction of the bed. He went for a clean one; he kept at least four in the end of the closet, so he would be able to grab one and go at a moment's notice. "I'm glad she's happy," he said flatly. Lwaxana had gone back to being loud and irrelevant, almost demanding, after the conversation on the beach. The children had been a fortunate distraction for her, at least. But then she'd decided they were such good friends now that she'd hugged him, and he had retreated from the holodeck.

When he stuck his arm in the sleeve as he turned toward the door, he saw her expression and halted in his tracks. Deanna was back to hugging herself and looking at the carpet sadly. "Cygne, you can't change her."

"I accepted that a long time ago. I wish she could just settle and be happy in the present, instead of worrying. And I know -- believe me, I know how anxiety feeds itself."

"At least you have the liberty of just being sad about it. I had to wrestle with the realization that I was just as bad as she, only my ongoing distraction and preoccupation was Starfleet. I've said it before, I know, but recognizing that I had more in common with her than I thought -- I may have to make an appointment with Davidson tomorrow."

Deanna laughed at it, and he had to smile with her, since he could feel her mirth right along with her. She went to get a uniform for herself, as she still wore the tank suit and wrap. "You seem to have a good rapport with Natalia Greenman. I haven't seen her in the hello-deck before."

Someone had coined the term for the public holodeck time and it had stuck -- for a few hours each shift, one of the holodecks would be set to a program that could be shared with multiple activities going on at the same time, usually Risa or some location on Earth. Crew would run on beaches together or picnic, or play games. He had not been a frequent visitor either, but he knew Deanna had been.

"I suggested to her that she make more efforts to spend time with people."

She made a soft frustrated noise. But it could have been about the struggle with the tank suit -- he joined her at the foot of the bed and helped her by taking the shoulder straps in hand and holding them out so she could remove her arms more easily. "I've suggested that to her before."

"She likely had to take the time to see that you were correct. As I did."

"Jean," she chided. "You're making it difficult to put on clothes." He backed away, letting go of her breasts. She smirked at him as she finished peeling off the suit, left it on the floor, and headed into the bathroom for a shower. "I'll be out shortly."

He finished putting on the uniform jacket, glanced in the mirror, and went out into the living room just in time for the annunciator to sound off. Barin and Lwaxana were expected guests. Barin ran into the room, smiling at him like a happy boy at last.

"You had a good time swimming?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I did, thank you," Barin said. "Sorahk invited me to come have dinner with his family."

"Thank you so much for introducing him to the children," Lwaxana exclaimed, with her usual excitement. Seeing Barin learning to enjoy the company of another child had been a relief -- she'd told everyone on the beach as much. 

"I have been talking to Mother as you suggested," Barin went on. They'd had a chat earlier in the day. "I do not know if it has helped."

"Accepting others as they are is often difficult," Jean-Luc commented, moving toward the couch. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Barin said. 

"He's right, dear, it's sometimes what we have to do -- even if the other person is irritating sometimes a diplomatic approach works best," Lwaxana announced, as she followed her son over to sit down. She chose the chair, sitting up from it with her hands in her lap instead of lounging as she often did. "We have such a good friendship, the captain and I -- and we are so very different in temperament. It simply wouldn't be possible without diplomacy on both our parts."

Barin shot her a look that said he knew that was hyperbole. Jean-Luc smiled -- it was obvious that Lwaxana was in for a challenge, now that Barin was talking. The boy sat down on the couch next to him, and turned back to him. "If Deanna is my sister, and you marry her, does that mean you are related to me?"

It was like having a younger Data, all over again -- it made him feel a little nostalgic. "It would, by human standards. Betazoid too, I think. There may be differences in the definition of the relationship."

Lwaxana leaned forward and grabbed the topic with her usual gusto. "Traditionally, Betazed was once more rigid about such things -- most of us these days look at it differently, family is family, so you would be brothers," she explained with a happy hand-flutter. She even reached over and tapped Jean-Luc's knee.

Jean-Luc restricted himself to a stern glance, and turned back to Barin. "Brother in law, by Terran nomenclature."

Deanna arrived, once more in uniform. Jean-Luc noticed Lwaxana's disapproving expression, fleeting as it was, as she went around to sit on the other side of Jean-Luc. "I enjoyed our time on the holodeck. Did you have fun, Barin?"

"I like to swim. It's different than sitting in a mud bath," he said, making it clear what Lwaxana had been doing with him. "I think it would be good for me to find someone with whom to engage in more physical activities."

"Of course," Lwaxana sang out. "We'll find some friends for you when we get home. And we  _also_ need to prepare for the wedding! We'll have to wait until after the Fifth House is renovated -- I've had all the tapestries and carpet cleaned, and now they're working on the floors. We should have it in the pavilion, don't you think dear?"

"I don't want to get too caught up in planning, Mother," Deanna said calmly. "I'd rather have a better idea of when we're having it to start planning."

"Well, why haven't you set a date? There's no time like the present! Oh -- I'm going to get my calendar, I'll be right back!" She rose and swiftly fled the room, the scarlet gown she'd put on rustling as she went.

After the door closed there was a moment of silence. Barin looked frustrated. 

"You can always contact me if you want to talk about anything," Deanna said. "I can't guarantee that I will always be immediately available though. At times we do get caught up in emergencies and sometimes the ship is out of range of Federation subspace relays for a time. And I've encouraged her to take you to a counselor, so someone can help you establish better communication."

"Do you think she will do that?" Barin's faint note of desperation suggested he already knew better.

"I'm hoping that she will," Deanna said, with her sad smile. "But I've been asking her to do that since I was seventeen, and that was a long time ago."

"She appears to need assistance," Barin said. "Part of a Tavnian child's duty is to care for the elders. I would be caring for my great-grandfather, had I been with my father. Our elders are important and we learn the most from them. So as they grow frail the youngest of us do the more physical chores on their behalf, while we learn the history and the stories of our family, and our people. I intend to ask Mother if I will be able to go to Tavny later, when I am older, so I can do so. But I do feel that I should also learn about Betazed as well. And Mother needs reassurance often."

Deanna raised her head slightly. "Mother is telling me that you should come -- she has a message from your father. Evidently she contacted him on your behalf."

Barin leaped up. He caught himself, turning to look at them. "I will be back. Thank you."

They watched him go, and Jean-Luc wondered.

"I asked her if she had tried to talk to Jeyal since the divorce, about letting Barin spend time with him -- if he might be more flexible, now that time had passed. I hope she did not do something rash," Deanna murmured. 

Jean-Luc took her hand. "They'll be fine."

"Malia noticed my ring." Deanna held out her right hand, fingers spread, to look at the ring. "The rumors are going to start." 

"The rumors are true," he said, settling back into a more comfortable slouch. In the process he inched closer to her. "What are the Betazoid traditions for weddings and engagements?"

"There are old traditions and new ones. We don't typically do anything -- rings or any jewelry. Old traditions are different. They involve tattoos."

"Tattoos," he echoed, surprised, thinking of a tattoo he'd had removed when he was older and recovering from chronic young stupidity. "What kind of tattoo?"

"Men would be marked with the sigils of the House they are affiliated with, and symbols that are meaningful to the couple. One at the nape of the neck, more down the arms. Mother will expect compliance with the older traditions, if we had a daughter and intend for her to participate in the Fifth House traditions." She slid her arm under his, twining it around and taking his hand as she leaned in and put her chin on his shoulder. "Do you want me to get you a ring?"

"I was simply curious. I don't need tokens." He paused. "Just the men?"

"No, women too. Mother has hers from her first wedding, it's part of why she often wears a wrap or long sleeves. She didn't care for them, so if she wears sleeveless dresses or shirts she covers them with makeup. You may have noticed she isn't entirely fond of tradition. Are you sure you don't want me to get you something?"

She must have picked up the little hesitance, as he commented that he didn't need anything. "The tradition for many human cultures is to give an engagement ring to the woman, and then both have wedding bands on the day of the ceremony. I know that there are those who exchange engagement rings, as well. But my family was always more traditional. I merely wanted to know if I should expect something from Betazoid traditions."

She moved forward on the couch, turning to look him in the eye. Letting go of his hand, she slipped her hand behind his head and pressed her fingers at the base of his skull. "That's where it would be. Just three letters."

"What letters?"

She took his right hand with her left, turning it palm up. With her right index finger she wrote a symbol that he thought was something like an A superimposed over a Y. "It's our initials, in Betazoid. And the symbol for love. We would both have them. But it might be more visible on you. The location is important, the equivalent of the heart for Terrans - that's where the soul resides, for us."

"We'll do that, if you want."

She smiled, an echo of the knowing smile she always had as his counselor when he wasn't being completely forthcoming. "Jean."

"Yes. I don't know why I feel drawn to do it, it just -- "

Deanna nodded slowly. "There should be a tattoo shop at the starbase. Unless you want to have it done in sickbay."

"I'll think about that. Have you thought about when, and how, we're getting married?"

She made a face. "Can we wait for Mother to leave to have that conversation?"

"Good idea."

"I should go talk to them," Deanna said, wearily acknowledging that it wasn't going well, whatever the conversation between her mother and Barin was about. "I'll see you later."

Jean-Luc spent a moment considering the next task, checked in with the bridge, made sure there were no urgent messages, and decided to read and listen to music. Before he got more than a few pages into the account of the Bell Riots, the bridge alerted him to an incoming call. He left the book on the couch and went to his desk, and the face that came up on the monitor was smiling.

"Beverly," he said warmly. "How are you?"

"Good, good, how are you?" Beverly seemed happy enough. She had her hair down, and propped her chin in her hand as she leaned close to the monitor. 

"I'm quite well. Is it my birthday?"

She laughed while he chuckled, and tilted her head. "Does it have to be? I don't want to let months go by again. I assume you're in the middle of another mission?"

"Heading back to a starbase, so it's a good time to catch us. A diplomatic effort gone awry. Lwaxana is aboard, so Deanna is spending time with her."

"Oh," Beverly said, with an amused lilt in her voice. "How did she take the news? Has she planned the wedding yet?"

"No, not quite yet. She has other things occupying her time at the moment. Has the  _Valiant_ been busy?"

"It has indeed -- there was an outbreak on a colony, we took doctors and supplies." Beverly tilted her head slightly, signaling that he was about to be called out. "How are things going with Deanna?"

He knew prevarication rarely helped, when it came to his friends. Beverly in particular could be tenacious. So instead of playing it off, he said, "We're doing well. Engaged, actually."

"Oh," she exclaimed. She sat back in the chair, her mouth open, taking it in. "I thought -- "

When she didn't continue, he lost patience. "You thought...."

"I thought that it might take you a little longer to get there." She smiled again, and even laughed a little. "Wow. Congratulations, Jean-Luc!"

"Thank you," he said, wondering if they were simply doomed to mixed responses from everyone. Beverly seemed to be struggling with the idea, though she expressed happiness.

"You'll have to let me know when -- unless you don't want a big ceremony," she said. "There was a time that Jack and I talked about simply having a tiny civil ceremony in private. Not having a big fuss has an appeal."

"We haven't thought about that very much. Lwaxana brought her own drama with her, and while she's tried to talk about it, Deanna puts her off. I suspect there are a lot of traditions we might be expected to follow."

"Hopefully nothing involving pain sticks or flinging rocks or other projectiles? Or ten hours of chanting, having the wedding party run a gauntlet, or any of the other traditions I've heard about... I confess I don't know a lot about Betazoid ceremonies other than they're performed in the nude." From the set of her mouth, that thought all by itself amused her. 

"I hope it's as simple as nudity. Any way it goes, it will still be worthwhile."

Now Beverly seemed less amused and more at ease. "I hope you have a ceremony I can attend. I'd like to be there."

"Even if you have to be naked?"

"It's not as though I would be the only one. We'll all be trying to figure out somewhere safe to look." She snorted and shook her head. "Meanwhile, I'm pretty boring here. I got a message from Wesley, not much of one, but he's still in our plane of existence anyway. He reassures me he'll be coming to visit soon."

"It would be good to see him again. I don't believe I've heard from him in two years."

The door opened; he turned his head automatically, to find that Deanna had returned. She shot him a questioning glance, and he waved her over; when she came to stand at his shoulder and saw Beverly, she laughed. "Well, hello! It's good to see you."

"I hear there's cause for celebration -- congratulations," Beverly said. "So is there a ring to see?"

Deanna held up her hand to show the band. "It's a work of art, not that you'll be able to tell until you're looking at it closely. I have a lot to talk to you about. Are we arranging something? At the starbase perhaps?"

"We're in the Tolin sector," Beverly said. "Heading for starbase 392. I might be able to swing a few days of leave for a special occasion, if you give me one to attend."

"Such a sly hint. I'm sure we'll be able to give you adequate notice." Deanna's hand landed on Jean-Luc's shoulder. He didn't react overtly to it, and wondered if the other hand might make an appearance. 

"I confess that I've wondered if you would bother with a marriage ceremony, or just write up a contract," Beverly said. "You moved in together pretty fast, I don't know why I was startled."

The annunciator sounded, and both their heads came up. Deanna sighed. "Maybe Mother is upset about something inconsequential?"

"Maybe I should go," Beverly said. "I'll see how the schedule looks and contact you later, maybe after your mother is gone."

"Thanks, Beverly. I'll talk to you soon." 

When Lwaxana came in, she didn't look as upset as Jean-Luc expected. "Well, Barin is talking to his father. I don't know how to feel about this."

"Is it going well?" Deanna stepped away from the desk, but didn't cross the room to where her mother paced in a small circle, occasionally waving her hands. 

"What if he wants to go with his father? What will I do?"

It was clearer than before that anxiety often circumvented or interfered with Lwaxana's best intentions. Jean-Luc watched Deanna and waited for a hint from her. 

"It was never clear to me how this became a problem in the first place, Mother," she said. "Because it seems like something you would talk about before you have a baby -- where you will live and how it will be raised. Something you might talk about before you married Jeyal -- was he promising you would live on Betazed?"

"He promised that he wouldn't make me give up my baby," Lwaxana said, unhappy and frowning. She stopped and faced her daughter as if disapproving of her. "He promised!"

"So you knew about Tavnian culture before you had him. You accepted that this might become a problem," Deanna said softly. It was very similar to the way she confronted people in therapy sessions, he knew well. Jean-Luc felt sympathy for Lwaxana but said nothing and contemplated leaving the room.

"I trusted my husband," she exclaimed angrily. "I did the best I could."

"I understand, Mother. I know you had good intentions. I know you're doing the best you can now. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Lwaxana was wagging her head as she walked now. "So many mistakes."

"Mother," Deanna said gently, trying to summon her attention. "Did you talk to Jeyal about letting him visit and come back to you?"

"Oh -- they were working out a schedule. There wasn't any reason for me to be there," Lwaxana scoffed, flicking her hand dismissively. 

"Mother -- come in," Deanna said, responding to the annunciator again. This time it was Barin, again smiling and seeming much more a normal child than before. "You're very happy -- how was your talk with your father?"

"I have asked him to come to see me," Barin said. "I do not want to go to Tavny until I am certain I can trust that I will be allowed to return home."

That made Lwaxana very happy -- she beamed at her son, and clapped her hands. "My dear, I'm sure we'll be able to work out something fair."

"Will you also come to Betazed?" Barin approached the desk, making it obvious he was talking to Jean-Luc. 

"If we can. Our schedule may not allow it. We'll be there at some point in the future, I'm certain." Jean-Luc smiled at the earnest boy's pleasure at that reassurance. 

"I hope that it will be soon. I'd like to spend more time with you." Barin turned to look at Deanna. "Mother said that there will be a wedding. Will you also have children?"

"I anticipate that we will. It may be a while before you would be able to converse with them, though," Deanna said. 

"It does seem to take much longer for human or Betazoid children to mature," Barin agreed. He glanced at Lwaxana, then turned to face her, as she was staring at him as if he might be a changeling. "Mother?"

"Oh, I was just thinking -- how would you like to visit the holodeck, just the two of us?"

Barin went along with her easily, waving farewell. Jean-Luc sighed, thinking about their conversation on the holodeck.

"I'm actually a little sad for Mother," Deanna said after a brief silence. "She always complained about how serious I was as a child. She would have much rather had a playful, happy little one."

"Another distraction?"

Deanna came to the desk, placing her hands on the leading edge of it, and smiled at him. "Sometimes, but I also think it would be proof to her that she is a good mother, to have a very happy child. She may understand that a child's temperament is not really about what she does, but she's dismissive of attempts I make to have that conversation with her."

"But I've never had the impression that you think she's a bad mother," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And whatever else you could say about her, she would literally do anything for her children."

"Feelings sometimes tell us things that feel true, despite evidence that they're wrong. I think Jeyal might have taken her at face value -- he may have believed she would simply go along with him, when the time came." 

Jean-Luc caught himself sighing again. "I'd like to hope our children will be happy."

Deanna's flash of a smile faded rapidly, and she came around the desk to lean against it, crossing her arms. "You keep thinking about something that makes you grieve -- it reminds me of how you feel when you think about Kataan, but stronger."

"When I think about Meribor and Batai, I usually remember the early days. Before the end of the world. Before I came back from the memories imparted to me by the probe, and realized they were all gone. Before those final years, when I had to accept that the grandchildren would never be adults. And while there is certainly nothing about our current situation in the Federation that suggests the end of everything is nigh, I think of all that's happened since the war and wonder." He stood up and as he stepped out she came with him, turning, moving with her in a way they now took for granted. His hand slipped into the small of her back. 

"Jean-Luc," she murmured, as they halted in the middle of the room and she turned, raising her arms, responding to how he felt with comfort. 

They held each other for a few long moments until he pulled back, holding her but giving enough space to look her in the eye. "I know there are no guarantees. But I can't let fear control my future."

"I know. I suppose the real question is what we want our schedule to be. When the wedding should be, when we should have a child -- how many we want to have. If we want to have them aboard the  _Enterprise_."

"Hmm," he responded, smirking. 

"Jean?"

"The answer is yes," he said.

She giggled. "But seriously, when do you think we should have the wedding?"

"How about two? One with our friends. One on Betazed later, to satisfy your traditional obligations."

"That would be fine. But the question remains -- when, and where?"

"Not today." Jean-Luc kissed her on the lips and started to go around her toward the door. "We will have dinner with your mother and brother, and after they leave the ship we can start making arrangements -- find out where everyone is, and what we can reasonably expect to find as a central meeting place for a civil ceremony. It would be unreasonable to expect Starfleet to let officers gather just for our wedding, but we'll see what we can do. Perhaps some of them can attend via hologram."

"Jean."

He turned back to her. "Cygne?"

"How many children?"

He rolled his eyes. "We should start with one. That experience will be informative as to how many more you'll tolerate...."


	5. Chapter 5

"Come in," Jean-Luc called out, turning off the monitor. It was that time -- and his appointment was punctual.

Natalia Greenman came in, came to attention. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease. Come have a seat. And a cup of tea," he said, gesturing at the tea service on his desk. He picked up his own for a sip, watching her pour and sweeten her own before she took a seat.

"Thank you."

"I hope that you will be taking advantage of the time we have at the starbase for some leave. I see that you have been working split shifts for four weeks without a break."

Natalia's wide brown eyes regarded him soberly. "I wasn't thinking about it."

"So what can I do for you, Ensign?" 

A smile flickered along her lips, but she sipped Earl Grey and said, "If you would, sir, do you have any advice for me?"

"Your service record while aboard the  _Enterprise_ has been exemplary," he began, then paused. There was a hint of a wince on her face. He decided to move on. "You have a minor infraction from your time at the Academy. Something about an altercation in the dorms?"

Another wince, that stayed a little longer. "Yeah. That wasn't good."

"There are a lot of reasons cadets get into trouble. I had about five different reasons, when I was at the Academy. Fortunately no one remembers those any more." Jean-Luc smiled to himself, thinking about the other troubles that had come later. "They'll more likely remember the courts-martial and the violations of the Prime Directive than the pranks and parties."

"You didn't," Natalia blurted, before she caught herself and covered her mouth with her fingers.

"I am aware that it is difficult to conceptualize, that I was ever younger than you. But I assure you that I was. Fortunately, I survived to learn from the many things that I did, either in malice or in jest, and suffered the consequences. And you look at me as if admitting this to you is unusual, which it is, perhaps. But, since I know you had a minor infraction involving a black eye and broken leg, I have enough to blackmail you with, should you consider sharing my secrets."

By the time he finished, she was grinning and stifling laughter. "You're worse than my uncle!"

"I could take offense, but I don't know what uncle you refer to, so have no way to know if I'm being insulted."

"I have a real uncle and an adopted uncle," Natalia said. "Telemachus Finch was my father's mentor and my grandfather's good friend."

"And your mother's brother Walker was my good friend," Jean-Luc said.

"Oh! He never -- I mean, why would he tell me... I guess I was too young to talk to about a lot of -- wow." She paused, thinking about it. "You knew him better than I did. I was still a kid when he died."

"Walker was a good officer. Possibly he didn't tell you every story, if you were very young. I'm sure if he were here now he would step up to help you -- since he isn't, I suppose I'll have to do." He smiled as he said it with a hint of weary forbearance. 

Natalia was happy, but seemed about to cry. He reached for the teapot and half-turned away to take the pressure off, let her recover. 

"I have no doubt that I would not be where I am today, if not for my mentors," he said. "It's not entirely necessary for success in Starfleet to have such help, but in my case...."

"I don't know if I can do this," Natalia said. The tears were startling; he hadn't been looking at her, but he heard them in her voice. He froze in his chair, caught off guard by this sudden decompensation. Then he shook himself.

"Ensign," he said firmly.

She flinched, blinking rapidly, and seemed to be rallying. "Sir."

"To get back to your question -- I could dispense advice but so much depends upon context."

Natalia gaped for a few seconds, making him worry, but she snapped her mouth shut. "I think, at this point, I feel scattered. Moving around between departments is necessary, I know, but I'm hoping that I can stay in a department and have a regular shift soon."

"Split shifts were not common when I was an ensign. I believe it was thought to be a way of giving less experienced officers a better introduction to the options available to them. Do you think it's been helpful, in that regard?"

"Yes, but sustaining the momentum has been hard," Natalia said. "Like -- I'm sure I could keep it together better, I'm sorry -- I didn't sleep much last night."

"Have you spoken to Mr. LaForge or Mr. Data about this?"

She shook her head. "I've been doing my best to settle into the schedule. I wanted to see if I could manage it."

In the past, he would have deferred this sort of thing to others. In the past he would have told her to do as he had always done -- do the job you signed up to do. Not thinking about the doubt and the weakness, focusing on the work, had been all he'd done. He stared at the young woman and wondered.

"You should discuss it with your supervisors," he said at last. "There is a time to push yourself, and a time to recover. There is no clarity when you're exhausted."

"So maybe I'm too tired to notice I'm too tired. Yeah. Sounds about right."

"Natalia," he said, calling out the person, the friend, rather than the officer. The one who'd been in the weight room in the afternoons, occasionally cracking jokes and reminding him of a time when he had had friends in abundance, rather than a ship full of people he outranked.

She brought her eyes up finally, instead of continuing to let them flit around his desk. 

"You are still doing fine," he said. "There is a fine line between assessing yourself and worrying yourself into a bias -- take a deep breath, think about what your direct supervisors have been telling you, and learn to see what is true, rather than what you fear is true. Objectivity in a crisis is an excellent skill to cultivate."

"Okay," she said simply, exhaling. "Thanks." She leaned and put the cup on the edge of the desk. 

"Do you have any other questions?"

"No, sir," she said, though there was hesitance.

"Natalia," he chided. 

"Nothing duty-related, sir. I spoke to Ambassador Troi a couple of times... she seems upset and lonely. I hope everything is okay."

"I'm sure that it is," he said. As much as it ever was. "You were good with the children."

Natalia shrugged, blushing a little. "Our neighbors had little kids, I used to babysit them. Kids are easier than cadets."

"In some respects."

"She said you were marrying the counselor," Natalia said quietly. He stiffened, expecting questions, almost ready to scold her for presuming to ask them, but she went on. "I was wondering if that's true, or if it was just her idea. But I know I have no right to ask, even."

"I'm certain it will not be a secret for long." If Deanna was correct, if Malia had noticed the ring, it might already be common knowledge in the crew. He had already decided that simply acknowledging it was the best course of action. 

Natalia smiled happily at the confirmation. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. You are dismissed, Ensign."

"Sir." She rose and came to attention, and as she turned to go, glanced back at him with a sly look. "So if I'm Dorothy, are you the wizard?"

Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair and flicked his fingers dismissively. "Close the curtains on your way out, please."

She left without another look back. He went to recycle the tea service, asked for a hot cup of tea, and brought up information on the Kertassilians, to see what they were up against.

Half an hour later, as he was finishing Captain T'Val's report on her first contact with the species, Deanna arrived -- he smiled up at her as she approached. She sat in the chair Natalia had abandoned.

"Should I call you the Great and Mighty Oz, or will Captain Oz do?"

Jean-Luc guffawed. "You just spoke to Greenman?"

"I did indeed. You've been such a positive influence for her. Thank you for taking time to speak to her."

He blinked. This was not usual -- he had met with other junior officers before, with the cadets, and none of them had earned him accolades from the counselor. Then again, none of them had had a meltdown in the turbolift in front of him, either. He considered, but could see no other way to ask than the most straightforward.

"Is she fit for duty?"

Deanna's smile vanished, just like that. "She is. Does she not seem to be, to you?"

"I don't typically have ensigns that cry in turbolifts that way. And she seemed on the verge of it just now."

Deanna spent a moment looking very, very sad. But she pressed her lips together thoughtfully, and said nothing more about Natalia specifically. "If I had reason to believe that any officer aboard were unfit for duty you would be the first to know. You don't ask this question about me, you know, if I show any distress."

"You don't typically do it in the ready room, or turbolifts."

Deanna smiled again, just a little. "You're only saying you don't know Natalia well enough yet to know why she's having some difficulties these past few days. Perhaps she will tell you some time." 

"So -- we will be at the starbase in less than an hour. After we have seen the ambassadors to their transport, we should be able to take some time off -- any thoughts?"

Her fond smile came back, accompanied by a light in her eyes. "Do you still want to get the tattoo? Or would you like to wait, see how you feel about it in a few weeks? There's no rush."

"I won't change my mind. We have limited opportunity -- I started reviewing the information about the Kertassilians and the admiral was correct that you will be instrumental in the talks. They don't communicate verbally."

"At all?" Deanna wrinkled her brow, curious. "I wonder why Mother isn't assigned to go with us?"

"Or any other telepathic ambassador? A good question. I think there is an answer in Captain T'Val's report."

"Then I'll spend some time this afternoon reviewing it, before we discuss further. Is there anything else, Captain?"

"No. Thank you, Counselor."

 

* * *

  

Natalia used her biweekly three hours of holodeck time in a forest, running hard, then swimming in the Mediterranean Sea. She had the computer replicate her new clothing, clean sweats, and left the room on time to head for the gym to finish sweating out the bad case of the jitters she'd had after meeting with the captain. 

"Such an idiot," she muttered to herself as she entered the lift. A perfect opportunity to ask questions and she'd frozen up like a cadet. And then he'd reassured her -- what kind of hell was it to turn into a mess and end up having the commanding officer consoling her instead of helping her become a better officer?

The lift redirected itself and a moment later, the ambassador and her little boy came in. "Ensign Greenman," she exclaimed, overjoyed. "How wonderful to see you again!"

"Hello, Ambassador. Hi Barin."

"We're going to leave the ship now," Barin said. "So I'm glad to see you -- thank you for spending time with us in the holodeck."

"You mean you're not staying around to run things? Wow, that doesn't seem fair," Natalia said, grinning at the kid.

Barin laughed -- from the shocked look on Lwaxana's face that was a rarity. "You are being sarcastic. Thank you for not treating me as though I do not understand."

That was an interesting echo of something Lwaxana had said before; Natalia kept smiling, but noticed the look on the ambassador's face. "You're not a human kid. I've had kids of other species around -- sometimes you have to adapt. Keep up the good work." She held up a hand, and he high-fived it as she'd taught the kids after swimming lessons. 

The lift opened on the appropriate deck, and they all left it -- the gym was to the right, and the transporter room to the left. She looked Lwaxana in the eye and nodded. "Safe travels, Ambassador."

"I'm sure we'll see you again, dear," she replied with a bright smile. "You'll be at the wedding, I don't doubt -- dear Jean-Luc is quite fond of you, after all. Come along, Barin, Mr. Homn is waiting with the luggage."

Natalia stood staring after the mother and child as they walked away together. 

"Fond?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Mother," Deanna said wearily.

Jean-Luc had escorted Telor'set to the transporter room and seen him off to the transport waiting for him at the starbase, and then Homn arrived, so he'd waited with the silent servant to see Lwaxana off. And Deanna had arrived shortly after, to wait with him. Lwaxana fluttered in as if she hadn't spent most of her visit being upset about their engagement.

"Well, two months then," Lwaxana exclaimed. "In spring! It will be beautiful, you'll see."

"I'll let you know when -- please?"

"We should let them decide when they will be married, Mother," Barin said suddenly. He'd stood aside while mother and daughter embraced, waiting his turn.

Lwaxana turned to look at her son. It surprised Jean-Luc that she paused for nearly a minute. "You're right, dear. We'll do that. And we'll invite that sweet little ensign, and Mr. Data, and his little dog Toto, too."

Deanna shot a look of utter befuddlement at Jean-Luc, but recovered quickly. She stepped around her mother and dropped to one knee to hug her half-brother. "I'm glad you were able to explain what was going on, Barin. I hope we see you soon."

"I'm sure that you will," Barin said. When they stepped apart, Barin stepped around his mother's skirts and came to hold out a hand. It was odd, watching a three year old boy attempting to shake hands, but Jean-Luc obliged. "Thank you for your hospitality and for helping me understand why I have been having difficulties."

"I suspect you would have understood enough -- was it not a matter of timing, that you began to understand?"

"In part, yes. It was helpful to have your input, however. I will see you when you come to Betazed," the boy said.

"Unless your mother comes on another mission," Jean-Luc said, rising to his feet and turning to her. 

"No, dear, I won't be on any more missions," Lwaxana said, smiling sadly. "It truly has been a wonderful adventure, but Betazed needs me more. There is so much work to be done, and then there's Barin -- my little boy is growing up so fast, I'm going to spend as much time with him as I can." She gestured at the transporter pad. "Come along, Little One."

Jean-Luc watched them dematerialize along with Mr. Homn. He stood a moment longer, contemplating the odds of having suddenly landed in some parallel universe, and turned to Deanna. She was waiting with an odd expression. He glanced at deOrda, waiting patiently at the console. "Thank you, Chief. After you, Counselor."

She was quiet as far as the lift. "I packed a bag," she murmured. "Made a reservation. We have a lovely room waiting for us."

"I'd say we deserve some time to ourselves. We can contemplate philosophy. Quote poetry."

"Jean."

"Plan a wedding?"

The lift continued the journey to deck eight and the door opened. She followed him to their door, and into the bedroom, where she started to take off her uniform.

"Perhaps we should play kadis-kot before we leave," he said as the shirt came off.

"You should be careful using metaphors for sex, I'll start taking you up on them," she said. 

"Oh, well then. Perhaps I should remove the clothing and start stretching."

She was laughing quietly, as she pulled on a dress. "Civilian clothing and a bag, sweet fish."

"Did you arrange for the tattoo?"

Deanna turned with a pair of shoes dangling from her fingers, and approached the end of the bed where he sat to pull off his boots. "I still don't understand why you want to follow old traditions. It isn't your tradition."

"If I do not, what consequences might there be?"

She sat down and began to put on hose. "If the traditions aren't followed, our daughter wouldn't be Fifth House. The lineage would end."

"Are you all right with that? Not giving her that choice, to continue or not?"

Deanna put on the second shoe, and sat up, closing her eyes.

"It may not be entirely meaningful to me, but it may be to her."

"You're right," she said quietly. "She should have the choice. It's more than I was given, but she should have it. But it's not that simple, Jean-Luc. There will be a lot more than just a tattoo."

"Then perhaps our time should be spent discussing this process."

She smiled, turning to look at him while the bond started to tickle his spine. "Some of it, anyway."


End file.
